


The Hidden Sword: A Tale of Baldur's Gate

by Elocinne



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elocinne/pseuds/Elocinne
Summary: A choice has been made at the crossroads, and a young elf leaves the protection of Gorion and the silence of Candlekeep to seek answers to her heritage. As she journeys into the Heartlands, she comes to understand that not all lessons are of the hammer and sword. AU BG1





	1. Crossroads (Book One : From the Earth)

 

Standard disclaimers apply. All characters belong to Bioware while some events may not closely follow the in-game story.

The PC and her Teacher are products of the author’s 16-hour commute + workday-weary mind.

An AU BG1 story, inspired by the old samurai films of my childhood.

* * *

 

_Gentle Reader,_

_Thank you for alighting upon this humble tale. As Common isn’t my native tongue- comments, feedback, and rotten tomatoes would be helpful and appreciated. ^^_

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD : A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 1 : Crossroads**

* * *

 

 

It was perfect. _The Plan_.

 

The elven girl couldn’t have arranged and executed a better scheme than this. She had waited for a trading caravan to arrive at the village below the monastery, waited for nightfall when everyone was asleep, and waited for each guard on duty to be where he should be- a pattern memorized from her years of observing and dodging their predictable nightly patrols. The escape was nearly foiled by another resident who had caught her, but the girl was able to buy the silence she needed with only a promise – _a pinky promise that she would return one day_. After that, it had been no great effort to pass undetected through a secret door by the Keep’s walls, followed by a quick run through the woods and down to the village.

The elf had climbed into one of the wagons while it was unattended and was pleasantly surprised to find it filled, not with vegetables or hay or smelly animals, but with bolts of fine silk and cloth. Clearly it belonged to well-moneyed merchants. She settled herself contentedly upon a pile of cloth and rearranged the loose fabric to better hide herself. A self-satisfied smirk over a job well done and then she was fast asleep.

She was jolted awake when the wagon came to a lurching halt. Hours must have passed since they left the village, and likely that they’ve reached another town. Hopefully, it was some place where she could quietly slip away, make clearer plans and transit to a destination which might lead her to the answers she was seeking.

She listened to the noises from outside. One of the traders had alighted and seemed to be discussing with the other men, perhaps confirming directions or whether they should stop to rest the horses. No matter. Her present spot was comfortable enough to hide her for a while longer.

_Until she was betrayed by an empty stomach._

Her belly growled a long mournful croaking tune, over and over. There was a gasp and a woman’s surprised cry followed by the sound of someone climbing in, a man’s sharp response and words exchanged between them. Her heart began to beat faster with worry as she realized she couldn’t understand a word of their conversation.

She peeked through the rolls of cloth and was startled at seeing the wagon’s occupants. _Elves like her!_ She was in a wagon owned by elves! And were they speaking in elvish?

Her stomach rumbled again. She saw the elven woman put a finger to her lips and pointed at her direction. The girl held back a frightened gasp as the elven man drew out a sword, his eyes trained on her hiding spot like a hawk about to dive upon its prey. He slowly advanced towards her, his steps light and quiet upon the wagon’s wooden floor.

Not waiting to be skewered, she scrambled out of the pile and stumbled in front of them. At the sight of the young elf, the man halted and both he and the woman immediately launched into what one would suppose were a million questions.

However, it all sounded to her like rapid-fire gibberish.

She sat upon the floor, not comprehending a single word, blinking in dismay, until she spoke.

“I-- I’m sorry. I don’t understand you.” Her eyes darted around before looking at them again. “Am I in the wrong wagon?” she asked awkwardly.

Her words caught them by surprise. They looked at each other and then at her.

“Who are you, Child?” the elven man finally asked in the Common tongue.

The young elf grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“I’m _Irsellian_. Though people back in Candlekeep just call me _Irse_ for short.”

 

* * *

 

The sky was clear and the moon shone unhindered by clouds. A cool breeze stirred through the trees and gently rustled the tall grass. Small campfires dotted the side of the road by the caravans and the air was filled with lively chatter frequently punctuated by hearty laughter among the men. It was a fine night for a walk outside a wagon.

Irse strolled around a bit, glad for the chance to stretch her legs after hours of sitting through a bumpy ride. It had only been a few days since the trading caravan left Candlekeep and the girl was still getting used to life on the road. However, she was careful not to voice any of her discomforts lest she offend Ilphas and Tannyl, the elven couple who were generous enough to take in a stowaway like her instead of returning her to the monastery.

Tannyl was sitting inside, most likely poring over her ledgers and accounting for the results of last week’s trade. Ilphas was singing as he tended to the horses, his silvery voice floating through the air with the lilting melody.

Ilphas seemingly noticed the young elf watching him, her expression appreciative but blank to the emotion of the song.

“Many an elf child would hum along to this familiar refrain,” he remarked.

Irse shook her head, self-consciously. “I’m really sorry I can’t speak elvish, but I wish I could”.

“Indeed, that was clear from the start. A rather unfortunate situation but not surprising , given you were raised by _N’Tel’Quess_ at Candlekeep. It is a citadel of learning and yet they did not teach you the language of your People?” The older elf’s face was sympathetic though his voice carried a hint of frustration.

Tannyl called out from inside the wagon, “Oh, Ilphas! Leave the child be. It’s not Irse’s fault the humans were remiss in her education but I’m sure they meant well with her.” The elven woman poked her head out and cast a kind smile at the girl. “Fret not. We will teach you ourselves and you will be speaking as one born with the tongue by the time we arrive at Waterdeep.”

Irse beamed and nodded gratefully. “I would like that very much! I won’t disappoint you!”

Ilphas had told her they were silk merchants based in Waterdeep. They had just come from Athkatla in the south and were planning to unload any unsold inventory at Baldur’s Gate before returning to their home in the City of Splendors. They could have consigned their goods to a ship, but as Tannyl had said to her, moon elves like them were often driven to travel and see the world, hence their decision to undertake the trade route themselves.

She had been excited to learn from them that a sizable community of elves resided in Waterdeep. If the wisest of the wise in Candlekeep wouldn’t give her the answers she needed about her parents and where she came from, then surely her People could. Or at the very least, welcome her.

It wasn’t that her foster father- Gorion, and her friends didn’t make Candlekeep a home for her. Rather, it was the nagging feeling that something was not as it should be.

For a moment, she imagined Gorion worried and deeply anxious over her disappearance. He would have already seen the note she left for him on the table in her room, telling him not to worry, that she can take care of herself, that she only need to search for the truth for herself and after that she would come back one day.

The young elf felt a twinge of guilt. But never mind that. Better to dwell instead on the possibilities, the places she would see, the answers she could finally have in their company!

She was about to climb in when an arrow struck the side of the wagon.

Caravan guards raised the alarm. “Bandits! We’re under attack! To arms!” one of the guards shouted. Able-bodied men and women scrambled to grab weapons while caravan leaders barked orders at the drivers to secure the carriages. The sureness with which they readied themselves suggested that the ambush was not entirely unexpected.

Arrows started coming at them from the west, mostly from the trees and shrubbery flanking the highway road. Ilphas drew his sword. Tannyl likewise alighted, dagger in hand. She took Irse by the shoulders.

“Child, the bandits will be aiming for anyone standing out in the open. Hide yourself as best as you can but do not stay here. Ilphas and I will help in the defense and we will surely draw the enemy to us. Take to the trees and return to us when the fighting is done. Now go and hurry!” Tannyl instructed her.

Irse nodded. She would rather stay by their side but understood that she would only be in their way. “Please be careful,” she told Tannyl who gave her a reassuring wink in return.

The young elf darted towards the other wagons, peeking around the corners before moving on. The air was now filled with the clang of swords and shields, cries of the wounded and fallen, the shrieks of women and children. Some of the wagons had been set on fire, the flames casting an angry glow against the black sky.

As Irse weaved her way through the wagons and stumbled over several corpses, she found some human children, a boy and two girls, shaking and huddled under an abandoned carriage. Irse knew their names and parents, having traveled with the caravan for days now. She bent down to try and coax them out of their hiding place. “ _Millie? Ara? Tom?_ ” Irse whispered to the frightened faces. Hearing their names spoken, the children seemed to calm down a bit.

“It’s not safe here. They might look under the wagons. Come with me quick and we’ll hide in the woods,” she told them. Mercifully, the children, though clearly terrified, nodded their heads and crawled out from under the wagon. Irse helped each child to stand up and herded them in her arms. Several men ran past their wagon, bandits with bloody swords in hands, laughing raucously at the easy haul. Irse pulled the children close to her and did her best to hide them in the shadows. By the mercy of the gods, they escaped notice.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. They tiptoed around the wagons and did their best to keep silent. Finally, only one wagon stood between them and the safe darkness of the forest.

One of the girls seemed to be about Imoen’s age. _Eleven or twelve_? Irse’s thoughts momentarily lighted upon that human child who lived with the innkeeper – Winthrop, and his wife in Candlekeep Inn, the only guesthouse within the Keep’s walls. For as long as the elf could remember, she and Imoen had been together, grown up together, played together, gotten into little troubles together. Irse wondered how Imoen was doing at that moment and if the girl was thinking of her. No matter. At least Imoen was still in Candlekeep – safe, warm, and will live through the night for certain unlike the children Irse held in her arms now.

_But there’s got to be hope. Maybe the bandits wouldn’t see them at all. Just a few more steps and they can hide among the trees where with any luck, they can wait out the fighting._

“ _Mama_!” one of the children, Tom, cried. He broke free from her arms and scurried off towards the corpse of a woman that lay several feet from them. The dead woman was on her back, eyes open to the night sky, blood soaking her dress. The boy knelt beside her and sobbed, shaking her arm as if it would wake one from death.

Irse gritted her teeth. “Gods! Get back here, kid!” she hissed. Tom wouldn’t listen, and the elf turned to the other children, “Go, run to the trees, hide yourselves while I get him.” The remaining children, the gods bless their sensibility for ones so young, nodded and scampered away from the wagon and into the shrubbery beyond.

She left the shadow of the wagon and made her way slowly towards the sobbing child, stopping a few paces from him. “Tom! She’s gone now! Let’s go!” Irse whispered sharply, but loud enough for the child to hear over the din.

“I can’t! I can’t leave Mama!” little Tom wailed.

A man stepped out from behind a nearby carriage. One of the bandits. There was no mistaking the cruel sneer on his face as he eyed the child while wiping his bloody shortsword on his dingy trousers. He walked swiftly towards Tom and grabbed the boy by the hair. The child screamed in terror.

Irse held out her hands and begged, “Wait! Let him go, please! He’s just a kid!”

The bandit looked at her but didn’t even acknowledge her plea as he raised his sword to strike at the boy.

Irse didn’t have a weapon, nor a spell. If only she had paid more attention when Gorion attempted to teach her magic. Only one thing could be done now.

She shouted and lunged at the bandit with her bare fists. The man was surprised and let the child go. But before he could swing his sword, Irse had already barreled into him, the weight of her entire body coupled with her momentum pushing him off his feet. Bandit and elf rolled in the grass, and the freed boy shrieked as he ran for the trees.

She found herself on her back and tried to get up as quickly as she could, but the bandit was faster. He was already on top of her, holding his shortsword with one hand like a dagger above her.

He brought his sword down on her head, but by a miracle, she caught the blade between her hands. She gripped it as tightly as she could despite the stinging pain. Blood was streaming from her palms and it seemed to grease the blade now inching towards her face.

With a grunt, the bandit pushed down at the sword with all of his might. The blade raked through her hands but she managed to bring her head to her right and out of the sword’s path. But it was not enough. The sword found her left ear. The elf screamed.

The man laughed at the damage he had caused. “Not so pretty with one o’ yer pointy ears gone, eh?” he taunted her.

Desperation urged her to keep jabbing at him in spite of the pain. However, he easily swatted at her attempts with his free hand. He raised his sword above her one more time.

 _This is it_. _So this is what it’s like to die._

Irse blinked. There were no visions of her life flashing before her eyes, no visions of Gorion’s kindly aged face nor of Imoen’s bright smiles. Nothing, but the glint of the sword above her eyes, mesmerizing her into a sickening helplessness as she waited for her inevitable end.

A blade pierced through the bandit’s chest. As the man jerked violently, another hand reached out to grab his sword before it fell from his hand and threw it at the side. Blood poured from his mouth and he fell dead on top of her.

The elf pushed the dead man off of her and she lay there with her eyes half-closed while trying to catch her breath. A shadow circled her, accompanied by the sound of a blade being whipped through the air. Perhaps another bandit so eager for another kill that he would slay his own comrade for the chance? She wouldn’t be surprised and was too exhausted to care anymore.

“Just make it quick, please,” she rasped.

The shadow chuckled and replied in a heavily accented Common, “ _I chance upon a fox in another man’s snare. I liberate the fox, but the fox begs for death?_ What manner of creatures these elves are!” There was the faint sound of a sword being sheathed into its scabbard.

Irse opened her eyes to regard her rescuer. She recognized his face. He was one of the men who traveled with the caravan. A blacksmith, an amiable yet quiet man, seemingly not even past his thirties, she recalled. But from his sharp features, narrow eyes, and coal-black hair, it was clear he wasn’t from any of the cities of the Coast. _Where was he from again?_ Irse tried to remember what she had heard about him. _Kara-Tur, was it?_

“Young elf, I saw what you did and I would have come to you sooner had I not been tarried by several more of these ruffians. It was brave of you to face him without a weapon. Brave, but foolish,” he chided her as he bent down to grab her elbows and help her stand.

Irse still felt faint from the struggle and her hands continued to shake. She brought a hand to her left ear and gasped. All she could feel was a swollen wet mass. Blood trickled down her neck and the pain was excruciating. _But she was alive._

“Thank you for saving me, uh, Mister--- _Ohh---_ ,” Irse told the blacksmith, trying to recollect his name from what she had heard him being called by the other travelers.

“I am Munechika Okami. Or _Okami_ for expediency, if you prefer,” he replied with a deep bow. “You are _Irse_ , am I correct? I have seen you with the elf merchants, though I confess I noticed only after our caravan left Candlekeep.”

“Yes, I’m Irse. I travel with Ilphas and Tannyl,” she answered, slightly matching his bow which she assumed was a custom among his people. Irse suddenly remembered the couple and wondered where they could be. She hoped they were all right and with less wounds than she has. Irse continued to press her injured ear with one hand and looked around her, noticing that the sounds of battle have died down.

“Is it over?” she asked.

The blacksmith turned his eyes to the night sky, still red from the fires. “Yes. It seems these cursed outlaws have already taken what they want.” He looked down and shook his head. “Many of our number have fallen tonight. If you are able, come and let us gather them for their final sojourn to the gods.”

The pair ambled towards the other survivors who had begun to assemble. As they passed by some of the burning carriages, Irse took advantage of the firelight to look at her hands, wincing at the throbbing pain and the blood covering them. The blade had cut deep. Okami stopped walking and took her palms in his hands.

“Ah, saved by your instinct. A technique employed at the right moment, but there is a way to do it without losing your hands,” he remarked. He reached into his cloak and fished out some bandages and a small brown pouch. He placed them on Irse’s fingers.

“Wash your ear and hands with water, put the herbs, the _San Qi_ , on the wounds and wrap them with the bandages. I would attend to you myself, but there may be others in greater need.”

Irse raised an eyebrow. “Are you also a healer? A priest?”

“No, but when you have walked in my sandals, you learn to make do without their gods’ blessings,” Okami replied.

“All right, I guess. Well, thanks again,” Irse said. She shrugged her shoulders and set off to find the children who ran into the woods. Thankfully, they had not gone far and were promptly reunited with those who survived in their families. Except for poor Tom. The boy continued to cry as Irse left him in the care of the other humans who survived the attack.

She found a nearby stream and knelt down, plunging her hands into the water and wincing at the numbing iciness. Others made their way to the brook to clean their wounds or draw water to put out he fires. Others simply sat by the water and stared in shock.

As she rubbed the blood from her hands, she remembered how back in Candlekeep, she would stay by the kitchens after supper and listen to the guards share stories about bandit attacks along the Sword Coast. Listening to their tales of the swiftness and suddenness of the ambush, the ransacking and the deaths were nothing compared to hearing for herself the crying and wailing of the grieving, the wounded, and the hopeless.

Before the attack, she would sit by the campfire every night to bask in the happy conversation and smiling faces looking forward to the next day’s venture and perhaps to the loved ones waiting for them at home. But now, there was only grief in everyone’s faces over the loss of companions and wretchedness over the uncertainty of facing tomorrow with nothing left.

With a shudder, the girl remembered the delight with which the bandits took in killing and looting that night. How anyone could simply go about and decide to harm another for no reason, even for money, was something she couldn’t comprehend. Her blood boiled at the recollection of the glee and ease that the bandit had expressed earlier when he tried to kill her and the boy.

Irse pressed at her injured ear and clenched her fist in anger. _She would not be helpless again._

After cleaning and bandaging her wounds, she made her way back to the elves’ wagon. Along the way, she would stop and help someone turn over a corpse or guide someone wounded to where the caravan leaders were gathering the slain and injured.

She found Ilphas and Tannyl not far from their wagon. They lay together, side by side, having fallen to the bandits’ arrows and blades. Ilphas was missing his beautiful sword, a silvery elven blade graced with rubies at the pommel. Likewise, Tannyl was missing her jeweled dagger as well as her necklace and earrings. The bandits have undoubtedly looted their corpses while they were still warm.

Irse sighed as she closed their eyes. Their faces showed peace even in their death. Where did the spirits of elves go when they die? Irse tried to recall from the books she had managed to sneak into her room in Candlekeep, for what felt like ages ago. _Arvandor_. She wondered. _Would she go there too when it was her time?_

She hooked her forearms under Tannyl’s shoulders and dragged the body towards the pyre. She saw Okami approach Ilphas and hoist the dead elf on his shoulders. They both made their way to the fire with their grim burdens.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At last, the fire died down and the sun rose upon them. The survivors, having said their farewells to the departed, have now drifted away along with the pyre’s ashes blown by the wind. Most of them retrieved whatever they could from their wagons to resume their journeys on foot. The bandits had been thorough and had also taken their horses.

Irse returned to the elves’ wagon to gather her pack and salvage some of their valuables – some gold and a few jewels that she once spied Tannyl was stowing under a false plank in the wagon floor. These should last her for quite a while. Certainly, they would forgive her for taking from them. After all, where they have already gone to was a far better place than here. When she had finished packing, Irse walked over to the highway road. Okami was already standing there, carrying two sacks- one for his belongings and another for his tools. 

“I am sorry for the loss of your parents,” he said.

Irse shook her head. “They’re not my parents. They were just kind enough to take me in.”

“Ah.”

They both stood in silence for a while.

The blacksmith pointed to the winding length of the road. “I shall continue to make my way through the Coast or further into the Heartlands, to any place where people dwell and perhaps may need my services as a smith and tinkerer. But as for you, where will your feet take you?” Okami asked her.

“I--- don’t know,” Irse replied.

She was about to take a step, _but to where_? Waterdeep had been her expected destination, but it was with Ilphas and Tannyl who were now dead.

Her feet felt rooted to the dust of the road. She gingerly rubbed the bandage on her ear.

Okami must have sensed her hesitation. “Young elf, if you still wish to continue your own journey, know this – in your state, you are prey to the world. You cannot hope to survive as you did last night. Not on your own.”

She turned her eyes to him. “You’re right. I got lucky. Maybe… you could let me come with you? Just for a short while until I know what I need to… where I must…”, her words broke off, hoping her appeal wouldn’t be turned down so harshly.

The blacksmith interjected with a kind smile, “Why not? I will welcome your company.” He crossed his arms and held up a finger. “But, you must earn your keep.”

Her eyes widened in relief. She could scarcely believe her luck. “Really? You would? I can learn _anything_. I did chores around the monastery so I’m no stranger to hard work, you see. So-- does that mean I’ll have to call you _Master_ from now on?” she asked with a grin.

It was Okami’s turn to broaden his eyes in surprise. He pointed to himself. “Me? A _Master_?” He coughed, “This one is not worthy of lofty titles. No.”

“Then what shall I call you if I am to work for you?”

The blacksmith scratched the thin beard on his chin. “I have not had an apprentice for a while. Perhaps, _Teacher_ will do,” he proposed.

Irse considered his offer for a moment as she rubbed her tired eyes. _Should she truly take it?_ Standing upon the middle of the road, Irse looked to the direction behind her.

The road behind her would lead back to Candlekeep. _To Gorion_. He was the only family she had ever known and there was no doubt he cared for her as if she was his own human child.

Her resolve wavered for a moment.

_Maybe Gorion was right and the gods never meant for her to know the truth about her parents. Maybe she could still return there and live the rest of her days pretending that everything was right and settled._

But the road returning to Candlekeep would only lead back to questions that may never be answered and to doors that she feared will remain closed forever.

A soft breeze gently stirred her hair, and she closed her eyes. She heard Okami’s footsteps upon the grit of the road, wordlessly walking away from her.

She then opened her eyes and steeled herself as she turned to the road ahead of her.

Irse took a step, the first in a thousand ones.

 


	2. Taking Root (Book One : From the Earth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standard disclaimers apply. All BG characters belong to Bioware except for Irse and Okami who sprang fully-grown and stocked with kaffa from the author’s regulatory audit-weary mind. An inordinate amount of events will not be following the in-game story.
> 
> Many thanks to all readers and reviewers. Your kind words are a constant source of motivation. I hope this story brings a smile to your day as writing this has brought one to mine. ^_^

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth    ||    Chapter 2 : Taking Root**

 

* * *

 

For a moment she was confused. Instead of wooden beams above and bare stone walls around, she was greeted by the open sky - a quiet expanse of pale rose behind clouds tinged with the gold of the rising sun.

Irse sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and glanced around. _Where was she again?_

All around her the horizon and trees and a view of the road not too far off. A moment more and she remembered she was no longer in Candlekeep. Even with the days between its gates and the morning now, the Keep’s walls sometimes still cast a shadow on her waking.

A savory aroma drifted over from a kettle sitting atop a small fire. Okami stirred the porridge and sprinkled in some salt and herbs.

“Good morning,” he hailed with a slight nod of his head.

“Good morning as well,” she yawned with a wave of her hand. Irse got up and collected her bedroll, dusting and shaking the cloth before folding and tucking it into her pack. She walked over to Okami who ladled the porridge into a wooden bowl which he handed to her.  The elf settled herself cross-legged by the fire.

Murmuring her thanks, she cupped the warm bowl in her hands and breathed in the steam. “We’re heading north, Teacher?” she asked.

 “We are. I have traversed the Coast Way before. Between here and the Gate we will find a few farms where we may seek shelter or coin in exchange for whatever service I can provide according to my skills.”

 “And I’ll be helping,” she reminded him with an eager grin before slurping the porridge.

 “Of course.” He poured some of the gruel for himself. “Though not fully until your hands have healed.”

 Irse nestled the bowl on her lap and held up both bandaged palms. “Is there anything a hammer and nails can’t fix?” she teased.

The blacksmith smiled and shook his head.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was quickly finished, the remains of the small campfire cleaned. Man and elf set off for the road, bellies full and spirits high with the day’s promise of good weather for traveling. Spring had already rolled into summer, the skies infinitely clear and the meadows by the road spread out like a sea of green dotted with the pinks and blues and yellows of wildflowers before ending at the borders of the thick woodlands beyond.

Every other hour they met other travelers – smaller merchant caravans of less than a half dozen wagons, or farmers ambling alongside hay-filled carts pulled by the most-tired looking mules in the realm.

Nothing more than passing glances were thrown their way – for what threat could be posed by a lean foreigner in humble travel-worn clothes, and a scrawny and lanky elf with bandages?

But there were other trekkers making their way north, perhaps to Baldur’s Gate or further to Waterdeep or all the way to Neverwinter, and even Icewind Dale. Places she had never seen, all mere names on a map she once saw spread across Gorion’s desk back at home in Candlekeep.

_Home. Candlekeep. But to these other travelers, also another name on the map._

Northbound folks who passed them by, of them she took no more notice. But with those heading south, she would turn her head and followed them with her eyes until her neck hurt or her foot stumbled on a rock she should have seen ahead. But she couldn’t help herself.

In her few days with the merchant caravan, she had always looked to the road behind them. Fearful that the Watchers would suddenly appear, her juvenile imagination always pictured them carrying chains and manacles; though they were mostly kind to her, they still answered to Master Ulraunt, Keeper of the Tomes. Each time, a little lump of fear crept up to her chest that she worked hard to smother with thoughts of freedom and adventure. But none of them ever came for her. Perhaps Gorion had accepted her decision or that Ulraunt was only too happy to be rid of her.

But now, each step felt like a thousand leagues and a hundred days; each time she looked back, the cord seemed to stretch tighter and tighter between her and the horizon to the south. _But what else could she do then?_

Another merchant caravan passed them by, going the opposite direction. Her head turned to look at them, then back to the road before her, then to them again.

Okami seemed to have taken notice of her habit. He cleared his throat. “In my homeland of Kozakura, we have a proverb– ‘ _He who looks not to where he began, shall never find the path to his journey’s end_ ’ _.”_

“Oh, that’s… wise,” Irse agreed absently, her eyes still following the other group, casting unthinking glances in front of her every other second.

“Yes, a wisdom you are demonstrating now. For the mark of a great sage is inattention to the road, most especially to an imminent pile of dung ahead.”

“Wha-?” Irse stammered as she finally looked down at her feet, inches before she nearly stomped on a mound of cow dung right in front of her.  Without thinking, she overstepped to keep from tramping through the slurry but lost her balance as she pitched forward.

She was sure her face was about to make friends with the rocky ground but Okami suddenly extended his arm before her. Instinctively her hands reached out to grasp at him and though her knees buckled ungainly, her feet connected again with the earth.

“Thanks,” she wheezed as she straightened herself and let go of him.

“Do not thank me. Thank the beast that dropped only one in your path,” Okami replied, his expression indifferent. The man resumed his steps without another glance at her.

A flush ran up her cheeks, embarrassment curling her stomach. The elf snorted indignantly and quickened her steps.

 

* * *

 

 

“I assume Candlekeep has its own forge and that you have seen its smith engaged in metalwork? I wish to know how familiar you are with the practice,” Okami inquired, adjusting his conical woven hat to shield his face from the sun.

Irse pulled back the hood from her face as she turned to him to reply. “We do have a smithy and it’s run by one of the Avowed.” Her eyes suddenly became downcast. “But I’m forbidden to ever step foot inside.”

Okami seemed puzzled. “I understand if such were to protect you when you were a child, but your words suggest the command holds until now. _”_

“There _was_ a bit of an accident, Teacher,” she explained, trying to sound nonchalant though with effort. After all, it had happened so long ago that hopefully it wouldn’t matter anymore, especially to her new mentor.

“A _very minor_ accident. You see…”

_It was years ago. Irse was about ten and Imoen may have been seven then. While Brother Albert was busy pottering about inside the smithy, she had sneaked in to grab a pair of pincers and a small hammer in a rack by the doorway, then quietly ran back to an eagerly waiting little Imoen._

_“You take the pincers, imagine it’s a dragon’s mouth,” Irse had coached her friend, showing her how to scissor the tool as if it were the snapping jaws of a great monster._

_Imoen, ever keen for pretend play, giddily received the pincers from the older girl. “Yay! But what’re you gonna be?”_

_Proudly, Irse had rested the small rusty mallet on her shoulder. “Me? I’m the fearless paladin that’s why I get this shiny holy silver hammer!”_

_With giggles and shrieks the two girls played heroes and magical beasts. But a greater threat to the little adventurers suddenly appeared in the horizon._

_“You two! Return those tools this instant!” Brother Albert scolded at them, standing at the doorway. “And get over here! You will sweep the floor and clean the smithy as punishment unless you prefer a sentence from Master Ulraunt! Or perhaps I should brand you with a flaming poker to warn the world for the miniature miscreants that you are!” And then the monk retreated back inside to make good his threat._

_The two girls had stared at the doorway, shrugged their shoulders and resumed their play._

_“How’d the knights say it in the books? Oh, yeah -- Die, Evil Dragon!” Irse shouted as she swung the hammer at the snapping pincers, taking great care not to hit her little friend._

_“I smite you in the name of --- Whoops!”_

_But not enough care to keep the hammer from slipping from her hands. The tool sailed away, spinning through the air and straight for the smithy’s window where it smashed through glass._

_With open mouths the girls listened in to the clattering of metal implements and a pitched scream. Brother Albert had suddenly run outside, his robes smoking. He had jumped into a long wooden trough, posterior first. With legs dangling out, he sat there as he frantically splashed murky water all over his lower half. Poor monk had accidentally branded himself with a hot poker after having been startled by the hammer crashing through the window._

_The hole in the window had earned them a week without supper. The burn hole in his robes near where his manhood would be had earned her a lifetime ban from the Keep’s smithy._

But it was worth it. Brother Albert was one of those monks always brownnosing to Ulraunt, who for some reason had always been ill-disposed towards the young elf. At the time, Gorion lectured on her with extra sternness, the expression on his face strangely contorted, his shoulders shaking, words almost stammering with forced coughing. Only then after a few years did she realize her foster father may had been trying to suppress his own amusement over the incident.

Irse snickered quietly at the memory then stopped at the sight of her teacher giving her a wry look.

“A pity for a child to be deprived of the opportunity to learn a craft,” he remarked as he smiled knowingly. “Yet one cannot blame them for decreeing that sharp, pointy, burning objects are not playthings to be dangled in front of a young fox.”

Irse could only grin, a toothy admission of guilt.

 

* * *

 

 

They turned from the road and into a beaten pathway that veered east. It led to a hamlet, a cluster of small houses adjacent to a field of scattered vegetable patches. A few farmers carrying rakes and baskets walked past the pair, hailing them with stiff nods and curious whispers behind their backs.

“They’ve got one of their own already!” A scowl spread over her face at the sight of the smithy. Though a mere door-less shack with an anvil and a forge – it was clearly well used with a small fire starting at the hearth and tools neatly arranged upon a rack.

Her teacher tutted at her. “Dismiss not the first hill the gods have set before you. Perhaps a valley of gold lies beyond the mound?”

They stopped at the threshold and waited for the master of the forge. It wasn’t long before he emerged from a homely hut beside the smithy. A middle-aged man, robust from years of toil. His arm was bound in a sling.

“And what can I do for a chap from the east and an elf lass?” he greeted them amiably.

Okami bowed deeply before the man, Irse glancing at her teacher before abruptly following in his gesture.

“We are humble travelers making our way north. I am also a smith and this is my apprentice. If you have need of able hands at the moment, we will gladly lend our services.”

The man scratched the stubble on his chin as he pondered the offer. “Matter of fact, I do need some help with my work.” He canted his head towards the forge. “Got a commission to make a batch of nails for a merchant friend coming in tomorrow. But see here, I hurt my arm. Fell off a ladder the other day thatching my roof, and my son’s gone off to Beregost with his mam so I’ve no help around.”

After a quick exchange between the two men on the amount of work to be done, they immediately set about to prepare for the day’s labors. Okami guided the young elf to the forge which appeared to be an open brick hearth raised above the ground. He showed her how to stoke the fires with a handheld bellows. They took turns with the implement, Okami allowing his student to acquire a feel of the effort to operate the contraption.

The smith, Filmon, went to an adjoining shed to fetch the iron rods. He returned with a half-filled wheelbarrow. As Irse continued to work on the forge, the two men unloaded the metal on to a worktable.

“There be another pile in the shed, could you get it too?” Filmon told Okami who promptly took the wheelbarrow and left.

“Been wanting to ask. What happened to you, lass?” Filmon asked as soon as the other man had gone.

Irse turned to him, rubbing the bandage bundled on her ear and held in place by a gauze wrapped around her forehead. It had only been a couple of days since the attack.

“Bandits, sir,” she simply replied.

The man spat on the ground. “Aye! Scum of the Coast. I dunno why the Fist don’t send more of their numbers to watch the roads. Too comfy sitting on their arse all holed up behind the Gate, I’d say. Sorry ‘bout your ear, though,” he muttered.

“Yes, well. I could’ve lost… a nose,” she remarked brightly. Filmon grunted in agreement and with his free hand pulled out a few tools from the rack for their use.

Okami returned with more of the rods. He speedily unloaded them on to the table and replaced the wheelbarrow by the entrance. Then he walked over to the forge, slipping his left hand into a thick leather glove.

“Our first task is to heat the iron stock to the correct forging temperature. See that the tip is bright, like the color of the sun rising. Only then will it be ready to be shaped by the hammer. I will forge the nails myself but you must observe and learn,” he commenced explaining to his apprentice as he scraped some of the live coals over the iron with a long-handled spatula.

“And take care when you are handling the workpiece once you have put it to the fire. Regardless of its color, the heat remains for some time. Always clasp it with pincers or tongs, or with a gloved hand if the length of the stock does not require a tool such as what we are working on now. Never with your bare hands lest you burn yourself,” he added as a warning.

Irse bobbed her head in understanding. _Hot things burn –_ something quite obvious to anyone, she dismissed in her mind.

Filmon watched them for a moment. “Seems you know what to do. Well, I’ll be leaving the two of you here for now as I need to help my own mam. If you need anything just holler at us in that yonder field,” Filmon said as he pointed at a small house where an old woman came out and stood by a mule and a cart of hay. With that, the smith left them to their work.

 

* * *

 

“So, just nails? I thought he’d ask us to make something bigger – like a _sword_ ,” Irse said with disappointment. She held a pair of the rods in her hands, idly tapping them one against the other.

“Before you can forge a sword, you must first learn to shape a nail,” Okami admonished sharply.

The elf hunched her shoulders and grinned apologetically at his chiding and gingerly replaced the rods on the worktable.

Okami explained further, “By heating the metal, you make it pliable to be fashioned to the form you require. This is known as the _heat_. Try to count the number of times I do this. First, we are to shape the point, next we fashion the shank - the body of the nail, so that it tapers from head to tip. Lastly, we separate the nail from the rest of the stock and form its head.”

Okami slid the iron out of the fire to check the temperature and was rewarded with the telltale bright yellow-orange glow. With the gloved hand holding the unheated half, he laid the workpiece on the anvil face and hammered at the glowing tip which he raised at a slight angle. Four times he turned and made a few strong taps. Then he started hammering at the area a bit away from the tip, both rotating and drawing the rod towards him to stretch the iron and create a taper.

Then he placed a steel wedge, a hardy, upon the anvil face, fastening its square-pegged bottom to the hardy hole at the far end of the surface. He held a sample of a finished nail against the stock to check for length, then laid it against the hardy. Several strong blows were made at the spot placed above the hardy’s sharp edge as he rotated the rod. With the remaining glow on the metal, Irse could see a dent deepening round the piece, almost expecting it to fall off and separate from the rest. But just when she thought it would, Okami lifted the stock, clamped the thinned section with a pincer-like tool, a header, and twisted the iron against header’s grip until it broke off. Okami inserted the newly broken-off piece into a pritchel hole on the anvil face and pounded at the exposed and still radiant end. Then he dipped the nail into a trough of water, the metal cooling with a satisfying hiss.

He held up the workpiece to show her the result. A nail indeed – a sharp four-sided tip, tapered shank and a flattened head. “How many heats were made to produce one nail?” he quizzed his apprentice.

“One heat, Teacher,” Irse answered. As with his movement and his strides, the whole process under his hands seemed quick and efficient. Nothing, whether heat or effort, was wasted in producing a simple nail.

“Correct. Iron can only be shaped while it is still hot. As it cools, it becomes difficult to mold until it finally hardens on its own. Know the course of your actions before you execute the work. Otherwise, hesitation and unnecessary movement will cost you the opportunity.”

Okami repeated the process for a dozen more nails with Irse preparing the rods for shaping, finally arranging the finished work into a separate pile. As she watched him, her hand would unconsciously imitate the way he wielded the hammer. Finally, the elf worked up the courage to ask.

“Can I try to make one by myself, Teacher?”

Okami looked up from his work and beamed. “Certainly. Here, the next one is yours.”

Gripping the newly heated iron with one gloved hand and laying it against the anvil face, she pounded at the metal, excitement and eagerness driving the force in her blows. Okami stood by and observed in silence, arms crossed over his chest.

Yet the hammer seemed to be hitting the anvil more than the rod. _A miss, one after the other. How many times has she turned the workpiece? She forgot. Does it have the four-sided point now? At first, she could almost feel the iron bend from her strikes but why is it getting harder and harder to hit it?_

After a while, Irse paused and frowned.

“Teacher,” she said unsurely. “I’m not certain I’m doing this correctly.” She held up her work. Tip unevenly formed and shank unequal from the hammer landing without focus. More like a slightly kinked root.

Okami raised an eyebrow, though his expression was more of amusement. “Perhaps among other worlds the gods have seeded, we may find a crooked people living in crooked houses having need for your crooked nail.”

The elf rested the stock on the anvil with a sigh. Gone was its glow, the iron now gray and dull.

“I was so slow that it must have hardened before I’m through. I bet it’s already as cold as ice,” Irse grumbled as she reached over to poke at the rod with the tips of her fingers.

With startling speed, Okami’s hand darted out, swiftly grasping her wrist before she could touch the workpiece.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned to look at him. “But it seems like –,” she blurted out.

Okami released his grip on her. He dipped a hand into the trough and flicked a few drops of water at the iron. Vapor escaped its surface with a hiss.  

“My earlier warning still holds. It may no longer be as radiant as the sun, but it will burn just as much.” He turned to her with a stern gaze as if to impose the lesson of her carelessness. “Do not be deceived by appearances, for the false safety you see with your plain eyes will cause you twice the harm.”

Irse bowed meekly. “Yes, Teacher.” She scratched at her head. “But I wasted one stock. Now Mister Filmon will take it out of the pay!” she exclaimed with dismay.

Okami’s expression suddenly softened. “Ah, but such is the beauty of working with metal. With wood and stone, a mistake is permanent and must be carved away and then you are left with less. Not so with iron. Though among the strongest of materials, it is malleable to any shape you please - but only when put through the hottest of fires. With iron, there are no mistakes – only a call to return to the forge once again _._ ” He motioned for her to replace the workpiece into the hearth.

“Now as we wait for the iron, show me again how you attempt to reshape the anvil.”

Irse pouted peevishly at the apparent jibe but obeyed nonetheless. She returned to the anvil with an unheated rod and held the hammer high in the air, knuckles white with the tightest grip that she could manage.

“No. Loosen your hold slightly. Yet with sufficient grip that it does not fall from your hands,” Okami said, then looked up at the roof. “And that neither will it fly to the heavens again. Wait, you are holding at the end of the handle and standing as far as you can from the anvil.”

She looked at her hand gripping the hammer. “Oh, how close should I be? Won’t I smack my own face by accident if I’m too near?”

“Your method and pose will result to your body absorbing the strain because your wrists are forced to pivot a heavy tool. You will tire easily and hurt yourself. Instead, grip the middle of the handle but place your body directly over your work like so,” Okami said as he positioned himself by the anvil as he did before, grasping another hammer to show her.

“In this manner, your arm as the bigger and stronger muscle will be doing the work instead of your wrists. With a grip closer to the head, you are better able to control where it lands,” he added, demonstrating his grip and softly smacking the hammer against his palm.

After she performed a few practice motions, Okami signaled for her to take out the stock from the forge. As she did so, she was delighted at seeing the rod bright once more. She had thought it could be melted only once and like potter’s clay would eventually harden to a permanent state.  Quickly she brought it back to the anvil. Holding the hammer in the manner instructed, the elf looked first to her teacher for permission.

“Now strike while the iron is hot,” he commanded.

Her jaw set with renewed determination, Irse aligned herself directly over the workpiece and began to hammer as directed. Sweat poured in beads from her temples as if the very fires of the forge engulfed her. Still unused to the motions, her arm protested at the weight of the tool. But now more of the blows struck true and her heart swelled with joy at the sense of control she had gained.

“Look, Teacher! A point!” she cheered as she held up the piece, turning it around and proudly displaying what would pass for an angled tip.

Okami peered at her work, an approving smile on his face. “You are learning. But the metal has begun to cool again. What is to be done, then?”

Irse looked up, in her eyes a spark newly kindled.

“ _Put the iron to the fire once more_.”

 

* * *

 

It took her twelve more heats to complete, but she was happy with her first nail. No longer a wobbly mess though the taper still uneven and the head flattened more like an irregular flower than a circle, yet surely a pointy thing it was. Into the pile of finished work it went, though Irse wondered if her mentor would’ve approved of including such an aberrant in the tally.

Okami allowed her to make a few more, each a slight improvement over the one before, but insisted on finishing the whole commission himself. Whether it was because it would take them a day to be done if she was to contribute more to the work, or the idea of her hand wounds reopening and bleeding all over the anvil was an unsavory consequence, Irse didn’t care too much. Though thrilled and proud of her first forging, she was just glad to be allowed to rest from working with the hammer.

It was nearly dusk by the time Filmon returned to the smithy. Irse dusted the anvil and swept the floor as the two men inspected the nails and discussed payment.

“Eh, what’s this?” Filmon held up a piece much different from the others. _Irse’s first nail_.

The elf dropped the broom and ran over to them, clasping her hands in a genuine apology. “I’m sorry, Mister Filmon. It’s my first work. I’ll do extra chores in the smithy or the field to make up for it.”

“No, please charge it against me. I am accountable for her,” Okami humbly offered.

The smith rolled the nail in his palm, quietly examining the somewhat warped piece. “Well, I’ll be! It’s an _elven nail_! Just as I had imagined you fancy elves would make it!” he laughed good-naturedly. “If you had made this with silver, I might even think to sell it as a trinket.”

Master and student sighed in relief as Filmon handed the nail to the young elf. “You can keep it, girl. For good luck, or to remind you to give it a bit more practice!” he chuckled and winked.

Irse accepted the nail with both hands and beamed shyly. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll always keep that in mind.” She tucked the nail into a pocket and patted at it.

“You’re welcome to stay in the smithy for the night. And join us for supper, will you? Mam’s cooking up a feast, especially after she heard we’re having guests from – well, _not here_.”

Okami bowed before their host, Irse doing likewise. “We would be honored, Master Filmon,” he accepted.

 

* * *

 

They had dinner at the house of Filmon’s mother, a spritely old lady named Sarra. Despite the simple spread of chicken and vegetable stew, bread and watered-down wine, Irse thought it a feast; finally, being able to sit in a chair, eat on a table with plates and cutlery after days of taking her meals by the side of the highway. Conversation often turned to news of the road, work at the farm and the smithy, and passing mention of other small villages along the Coast.

Sarra seemed to take a special interest in the young elf. “How old are you, dearie? Eighty? A hundred and twenty?”

“I’m fifteen, almost sixteen now, ma’am,” Irse responded politely, covering her mouth as she chewed on a turnip in the stew.

“Fifteen? Just a mere babe out and about wandering these roads! But you’ll always look like that, won’t you? Oh, I wish I could stay forever the pretty lass that I was in my youth - just like you fey folk!” Sarra gushed, a wistful look on her cloudy eyes.

“ _Pretty_? Didn’t Pa, bless his soul, always said you blinded him with a barrel of stout twice – once in that midwinter feast when you roped him in the barn, and then at your wedding day. Maybe thrice, including the wedding night!” Filmon piped in with a guffaw.

Sarra wagged a soup ladle at her son. “Shush, you! Don’t tell me your pocky face got Elena to pull up her skirts! You put a sack on your head or hers?”

As mother and son hurled savory insults over the stew, teacher and student traded amused glances and quietly ate their portions.

 

* * *

 

Supper was cleared away and after profuse expressions of gratitude, Okami had requested that he and his apprentice be allowed to retire for the night. Filmon hung a thick blanket at the entrance of the smithy to keep out the draft, spread a dense carpet of straw all over the dirt floor and left them more blankets and two lanterns for the night.

Irse took her place by a lamp, sitting cross-legged on the straw. She would be on guard until an hour past moondark, then her teacher would take over until sunrise.

Okami knelt beside her. “There is no need to keep watch. We are safe here for the farmers take turns in guarding the village in the hours before dawn. You must rest for you have labored much today,” he said gently.

Irse nodded and stood to get her pack and set down her bedroll. It was just as well, for her shoulders ached, her arms sore, and her neck felt stiff from all the hammering and carrying and watching. Better to rest through the night now for tomorrow would certainly mark the start of another long stretch of walking and camping.

But sleep didn’t come right away. Irse took out the nail from her pocket. Staring blankly at the ceiling, she held it like a feather pen, tracing her name, trees, clouds, the moon in the air.

Her gaze fell upon her teacher, still in a sitting kneel by the lantern. His own eyes were half-closed, hands resting upon his thighs, his striking features now relaxed and serene by the dim light.

She looked up again at the wooden beams above, her hand unconsciously changing its grip on the nail, from that of a pen to a hammer. And as she did, something stirred within her, a mingling of elation, sureness, and purpose.

Then she laid down her hand and closed her eyes.

 

 

 

 


	3. A Shadow of Valleys (Book One : From the Earth)

Standard disclaimers apply. All BG characters belong to Bioware except for Irse and Okami who sprang fully-grown and stocked with kaffa from the author’s regulatory audit-weary mind. As this is an AU BG, an inordinate number of events will not be following the in-game story.

 

Many thanks to all readers and reviewers. Not much happening yet as this chapter is to deal with some chief issues, thus, I humbly beg your patience. Things should get lighter in the next. ^^

 

* * *

 

 _“_ The way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death _.” –_ Miyamoto Musashi, _The Book of Five Rings_.

 

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 3 : A Shadow of Valleys**

 

* * *

 

It was there again, that familiar flash of steel above her head. But this time, new details made themselves known to her, things that had escaped her awareness then. Woody smoke that hung heavy in the air from the burning wagons, a woman wailing somewhere in the distance, and the dampness of the grass against the back of her neck. Even the blood from the bandit’s sword, blood already drawn from her, falling in drops upon her face and leaving trails across her cheeks.

 

The same fear was still there, accompanied by the dryness in her throat, the breath tight in her chest, and the pounding in her ears. But this time, she waited with an expectant knowing. The blade piercing through the tatty jerkin, his hands reaching down to pull her up from the earth, the search in the woods for the children, the distraught faces. Grief, anger, doubt over the choice made, bleakness over not knowing where to go to next. All concluding with relief and hope, the early sunlight upon the road, its dust like gold beside the shadows cast by her feet.

 

A veil was lifted from her eyes and she was brought back to the waking world and into the shelter of the smithy. No light peeked beneath the blanket at the door; dawn was still hours away. The lamps had been put out but the elf could see faintly in the darkness.

 

Irse turned over to her side and pondered the dream. It felt different from the ones she usually had at home. It was as if she was there once more at the night of the attack, experiencing everything all over again even though she already knew what would happen.

 

But she did have a dream similar to this, weeks ago. Inwardly she groaned at the memory. It had been the catalyst, the final straw. _Why won’t Gorion give her answers._ No, now was not the time to be distracted. The elf sighed and shook herself all over, both to brush off the stiffness and the more recent yet unhappy memories. Her eyes wandered around in the smithy, taking in what she could see in the absence of light – the forge black and cold, the tools neatly lined against the rack, the anvil like the hulking form of a slumbering beast, her teacher resting on his back.

 

Even in sleep he was quiet and still. Were it not for the slow rising and falling of his chest, he could easily be mistaken for a corpse. Never snoring, not even a murmur from a dream or a moan from a nightmare. Irse speculated. Perhaps his home had given him nothing but peaceful memories. In other words – most likely a dull, humdrum, boring life in some quiet backwoods. No wonder he left his homeland to seek his fortune in Faerun.

 

Perhaps they were not so different then, the elf supposed as she pulled the blanket over herself and waited for the morning.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The afternoon had advanced to the final hours before sunset. They stopped by the side of the road and walked further until they reached a clearing amidst a sparse copse of trees.

 

“Let me see to your wounds again while there is yet light,” Okami said.

 

First, her hands. She held them out for him and he carefully freed them of the bandages, one after the other. As the dressings fell away, he took her hands and held them up for closer scrutiny. His eyes lit up in surprise. Though the surrounding areas and edges of the lacerations were still inflamed, the cuts themselves had closed altogether.

 

“I feared I had been negligent in allowing you to work with the hammer so soon, that it might hinder your recovery. But it appears they are healing much faster than I expected even when it should require many days for a wound of this type to reach this state. I am not familiar with the constitution of elves, but is this the way with your people?”

 

“Not sure, Teacher. I’ve had my share of nasty falls and scrapes but as far as I can remember, I just shrug it off and I’d be up and running again.”  

 

Her hands continued to rest upon his as he stared at them still. Much like fortune tellers who looked into one’s palm and predicted the future – whether one would marry and have ten children, or die an old maid. Not that she had anyone look into hers before for the same reason; as a child, often it was merely to check if she had pilfered anything from the kitchens or was hiding another crumpled note with a crudely scribbled insulting likeness of Master Ulraunt or any of his lackeys.

 

“Are you reading my future?” she asked, genuinely curious.

 

“No, but another’s past. A sad tale from a long time ago,” he said as he picked up the discarded bandages beside them. He moved back and settled in a sitting kneel before her as he gathered and rolled the length of the dressings.

 

“Can I hear it?” she blurted eagerly. But she paused, then added, “If you don’t mind telling.” It just occurred to her that Okami hadn’t really shared anything about himself since they began traveling together, and that might have been for good reason.

 

But her teacher responded with an indulgent smile. “Of course, though it is not about myself, but of a man I met in my youth.” He breathed in deeply as he recounted. “Many years past, I fought alongside a soldier by the name of Tatsuhito. One day as we were preparing to engage the enemy, I noticed a prominent scar upon his hand nearly identical to yours.”

 

Irse raised her brow in surprise. So her teacher used to be a soldier? Yet his manners seemed to dictate otherwise. The elf briefly imagined the blacksmith in gleaming helmet and polished armor instead of his shabby loose trousers and his short tattered open-front robe that he wrapped around himself and held together with a sash. Then she realized she had no idea how Kozakuran soldiers dressed like anyway.

 

“I inquired as to how he obtained his scar, and he confessed it was the mark of a blood oath.”

 

The young elf’s eyes widened with interest. _A blood oath_. That sounded like it involved villainous wizards and warlocks. “What’s a blood oath? Is it evil magic?” she asked, her voice an excited whisper.

 

“There is no magic, arcane nor divine, involved in one; only an intent to commit oneself to a bond with another. Often it is done to establish alliances or to swear an oath to perform a duty to another person.”

 

Her curiosity was piqued. “If it’s not magic, then what do they do in it?” 

 

“There are no written rules, only what one’s heart dictates and bids him say. Customarily, they swear their oaths followed by bloodletting. The rite is concluded by the mingling of blood, through clasping of hands if they had cut their palms, or letting blood from their forearms fall into a cup of wine which they drink together. This is to signify that the same blood now flows in their veins, the union of both brotherhood and purpose.”

 

“Drinking blood!” she exclaimed with a shiver. “What happens if you break your vow?”

 

“No law or curse binds them to their pledge but I know not of any who have turned their back on it. You do not make the oath of blood to someone you do not honor or respect, nor for a cause you are not willing to give your life to. It is not uncommon to hear of those taking their own lives due to betrayal or failure. Truth be told, this ritual originated from tribes beyond our shores. Somehow, it had found its way to our lands and I am not surprised that the warriors among us would take to this practice.”

 

The elf leaned back, amazed that there were people who would do such a thing to themselves. “And your friend? Did he tell you why he did that?

 

“Herein is the sadness of his tale. Tatsuhito had a bosom friend, Ueda, a fellow soldier and minor noble whose home lay at the edge of the borders under our protection. The enemy, in a show of defiance, raided his village and subjugated its inhabitants to their rule. While the peasants immediately swore fealty to their new master in fear for their lives, Ueda’s family remained steadfast. As punishment, his entire household were abused and publicly executed - his elderly parents, wife and children. Even the lowest of the servants and the livestock were not spared. Their bodies were tossed like refuse outside the gates of their own house, under strict orders to remain unburied for a month to serve as a warning to others.”

 

Irse gasped in disbelief at the brutality. “And the army marched in, saved the village and punished the enemy, right?”

 

Okami shook his head. “It was only a minor loss to our lord and his allies, the small territory and insignificant populace unworthy of resources better spent elsewhere. Denied of justice and maddened by grief, Ueda secretly deserted his post to return to his home and avenge his family. But alone and unaided, he was caught, tortured in the same manner they suffered, and made to die of his wounds slowly as he lay among the corpses of the slain.”

 

Irse’s heart sank. This certainly didn’t play out like the epic tales of revenge she had read from the books that her tutor, Brother Karan, would sneak out of the library for her. In those stories, the wronged heroes always succeeded, survived, and were rewarded - hailed as a savior by the oppressed little folk or married to a beautiful princess and ruled a kingdom until a peaceful death in old age.

 

Her teacher folded the bandages as he resumed his tale. “Tatsuhito, assigned to another division, returned to learn of his friend’s death. Though Ueda no longer lived to hear his vow, he performed the blood oath upon himself, swearing he would not rest until the murderers are all dead. But unlike his friend, Tatsuhito was a prudent and patient man. After a skirmish, he feigned grave injuries and was granted a lengthy reprieve. He traveled to the village, disguised as a landless peasant seeking employ. For months, he lived as a servant to the traitors and his friend’s murderers, learning all what he could of them. One by one, he killed those involved whether by poison, a blade to the back, or a contrived accident. To kill by stealth was beyond the question of his principles, so great was his love for his friend that he was willing to do anything no matter how seemingly dishonorable for a warrior.”

 

“Did he ever succeed in getting them all while he was there?” Irse leaned forward, hoping in her heart that there could be a happy ending to the tale.

 

“All but the captain who ordered the executions and two of his attendants who participated in the tortures; they had been recalled to the main army of their lord. It was in that chance encounter where Tatsuhito and I met that he completed his vengeance. In the midst of the fighting, he charged and broke through enemy lines, seeking those three men. I found him after the battle, his path littered with the unfortunates who dared to stand in his way, and him surrounded by the bodies of his quarries. All of them slain by his hand yet he himself already breathing his last.”

 

 “So he did it. But he still died,” she said with disappointment.

 

“Yes, such a path rarely ends well for all. But there was peace upon his face as he expired, knowing he had fulfilled his vow to his dearest friend. His sword I eventually returned to his family in Chozawa, their grief great at the loss of a son but their pride immeasurable over his fidelity to his oath and friend.”

 

Irse slumped and rested against her pack, her own spirit heavy at the unhappy conclusion. Even with retribution attained, justice still felt hollow. No recompense, even for Tatsuhito’s family who lost him to the vendetta. For what good was _pride_ then – can it laugh with the voice of the departed, or put its arms around the loved ones left behind? Nonetheless, the elf let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully though, no wars ever happened in the Sword Coast, and Candlekeep will always be safe for everyone who lived there.

 

The sound of her teacher briskly rubbing and slapping his hands together jolted the elf from her musings. “Now, how did I allow you to listen with only one ear? We must remove the bandages so that this tragic tale may come out of the other lest it rob you of sleep tonight,” he offered cheerily.

 

Irse grinned at his words. And so her ear was next. She felt the gauze slowly unwinding around her head until the hot stuffiness was gone and a slight breeze gently touched at the once covered skin. Pleased, the elf combed a hand through the coppery locks that had fallen to the side of her head to gather them away from the ear and feel more of the cool afternoon air.

 

Her finger brushed against the ear – or what was left of it, her hand pulling away in shock. She stared at him anxiously. Her teacher didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

 

“You are still able to hear that with your left ear?”

 

Irse scowled. “Of course, I can.”

 

“Then it matters not what the outside appears to the world, so long as the inside functions as it should,” he dismissed.

 

Her hand quickly shot up to the side of her head to feel again. The upper tip was still there but a portion of the outer ear’s side was gone. On the night of the attack, it had swelled to nearly twice its size and she had hoped it was still whole and merely pierced through. The first couple of nights afterwards, it throbbed with pain and nearly robbed her of sleep. The elf had thought that would be the worst of it. That it suddenly stopped hurting like some miracle gave her hope that it would be well again. Now she discovered she had been wrong.

 

In panic she turned away and scrambled for her pack. “A mirror,” she muttered, upset. Surely, she must have thought to bring one with her. Yet for all her planning, she had forgotten to throw one into her bag. “Well, it’s not so bad, is it?” the elf finally said in defeat.

 

“Not as misshapen as those I have seen in the aftermath of battle or a duel. Others have had theirs severed entirely,” Okami said with the nonchalance of one who has seen every conceivable injury.

 

The elf exhaled in half-hearted agreement as she fingered at the ragged edge of her ear. That a child would live, the man who had done this to her was dead, and that she was still alive were things to be grateful for; others hadn’t been so fortunate.

 

“Tell me plainly how you got those wounds,” Okami said.

 

Irse looked up at him and frowned. _Didn’t he know already?_ “I got them when I caught the sword with my bare hands. Stupid of me to think I could – no, I wasn’t thinking at all. And the ear, well, I tried to move my head away, clearly it was coming straight for my face. He was sitting on me, otherwise I could’ve rolled away. But why are you asking me?”

 

“Without knowing, you demonstrated a vital principle in combat,” he said, his eyes grave. “ _The way of the warrior is the resolute acceptance of death_ \- that is the word of the masters drilled upon us from our youth. And yet it is the very same creed that would keep you alive in the worst of the fighting, when both weapon and aid have failed.”

 

Irse blinked, confused. “What has that got to do with me? How will not being afraid to die be what that keeps me alive? That doesn’t make sense at all!”

 

“You are fortunate to have been blessed with the instinct. Yet think for a moment if you had been given the choice but not wanted to mar your hands or perchance lose a finger in the process. You would have hesitated to sacrifice your hands and surely you would have joined the others in the pyre.”

 

“Are you saying I should be reckless? Not care if I lose everything?”

 

“Do not confuse resolve with rashness. _When you have accepted the prospect of death then you will be undistracted by preoccupation with self-preservation_. Only then you may draw unhindered from the deepest reserves of your strength and focus. Think upon that each time you look at your hands and when you finally see yourself in the mirror. You may find it difficult to understand now but one day you will, though I pray to the gods that you would never have to,” he said as he got up, bandages in hand.

 

Not far from where they made their camp, Okami dug a small hole in which he tossed the used dressings and covered them with the disturbed earth. Meanwhile, Irse busied herself with gathering wood for the fire. Every now and then, she would look down at her hands or rub her left ear and thought grimly. _What else would she have to sacrifice?_

 

Slowly, the fire came to life as Irse fed it with more dried leaves. Its crisp cackle joined the low buzzing of crickets and the occasional shrill cry of a bird roosting above them. The blacksmith returned from a quick patrol of their surroundings, his wordless calm telling her that nothing was amiss and they could settle there for the night.

 

Her teacher peered into the sack of provisions that had been generously provided by their previous hosts. “Now, if you are agreeable, let us finally have our supper,” he said.

 

“Great!” Irse cheered excitedly, suddenly revived. “You know, all that talk of _blood_ made me hungry!”

 

Okami shot her a strange look.

 

“I mean, blood, like blood pudding and meat stew and…” she attempted to explain, astonished at her own outburst.

 

“It is too late to set a trap with the evening already upon us. We are having the vegetables that Mistress Sarra provided but the cured meat and seasonings we must ration until we reach another place with a market. Hence, tonight we will boil them without salt,” he pronounced dryly as he pulled out a small kettle.

 

The elf groaned and wondered what her other ear would taste like.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s... a sword?” Irse asked, uncertainly, as she examined the piece of wood that Okami had handed to her. As long as her arm, one end carved to a pointy tip, the whole length cut to resemble the broad sides of the blade, the other end notched to indicate where the hilt should be.

 

“Yes, a _bokken_ , a practice sword - or the best I could prepare in such short notice.”

 

She gripped the stick with both hands and tried to swing it just like the way she remembered seeing the Watchers do during their practice drills.

 

“Ow!” the elf exclaimed and glanced at her palm. A splinter and no wonder; the entire surface had only been hurriedly sheared and yet to be sanded down.

 

Okami coughed as he held out his own wooden sword. “A thousand apologies. I am a blacksmith, not a woodcarver.”

 

Her cheeks puffed as she stifled a snicker. At least that was one thing he is not that she could scratch from her list. _What else could he be, after all?_

 

Their lessons began that morning as they walked the road. Okami wasted no time as he explained the rudiments to his eager student. “The difference between the standard double-edged longsword in common use in Faerun and the single-edged _katana_ of Kara-Tur which I carry is not only in appearance, but also in how they are wielded. However, the basic stance and guards are quite similar in form and principle.”

 

Her teacher paused in his steps and stood before her, knees slightly bent, feet apart but with right foot forward and left foot behind and slightly pointing outwards. He raised his bokken in front of him, tip pointing up. “For instance, what is known as the _short guard_ for the longsword is also the _chudan no kamae_ of the katana.”

 

He lowered the stick. “The _fool’s guard_ , also the _gedan no kamae_.” He raised the practice sword above his head. “The _guard of the hawk_ , also the _jodan no kamae_.” The bokken lowered but pointing behind. “The _long tail guard_ , also the _waki no kamae_.” He raised the stick once again, this time at eye level and the tip pointing forward. “And the _ox guard_ , also the _kasumi no kamae_. Each stance has its purpose in defense and striking.” At the mention of the Kozakuran names, he slightly changed the way he gripped his practice sword to indicate how the guard position would appear when one wielded a katana instead.

 

“Why do I tell you this? Had you been born in my homeland as a man and in a noble family, you would have been instructed in the sword arts from the moment your hands could hold and your feet could stand. Your clan, a patron of an illustrious school and you trained in a single fighting technique, the purpose of your duels merely to prove that your school’s sword style is the finest. In Kozakura where warriors battle in much the same manner, such a way is effective.”

 

Okami waved his bokken, pointing at the horizon and at the road before them. “But here in Faerun where people from across the realms converge, such narrowness of knowledge could be your undoing. Hence, I wish for you to understand not only the movements, but more so the principle that governs most of what you must do and what you may expect from an enemy.”

 

The elf nodded in acceptance yet deep down, a sprout of insecurity remained.

 

“What is the matter?” her teacher asked, evidently reading her thoughts on her face.

 

“I don’t know if I could truly learn something as complicated,” she said timidly. Memories of impatient monks who had attempted to educate her in the finer points of civilization such as poetry, languages and history, had impressed that doubt upon her mind. Only Brother Karan, ten years her senior yet of gentle disposition and possessing an unending store of patience, had been able to get her and Imoen to sit still long enough to learn their letters and sums. A jar of sweets sitting at his table might have been instrumental as well.

 

“I know that all this is too much to take in at the moment. You do not have the benefit of years of rote learning that you could have had as a child. But you are of sound mind and age now, thus, you must make up for it with the study and understanding of the principles before the application itself. But fear not,” he said reassuringly. “All I ask from you are an open mind, eyes, and ears. Let them lead, and your hands will follow.”

 

Irse nodded again, this time with a bit more confidence. As they walked, Okami drilled her in the guard positions. He would call out a name, and she would show it to him as best as she could recall. Occasionally they would stop in their tracks and the blacksmith would correct her mistakes while demonstrating his own form.

 

“Now, what do you observe from all of the guard positions I’ve shown you?” he asked.

 

The elf furrowed her brow as she tried to remember. “Your feet, Teacher. They remain the same, one behind the other. But why? Why not stand with them together, or lined-up like the way the guards of Candlekeep do?” she questioned him as she positioned her own feet in the manner she described.

 

Okami rubbed his chin. “A good point. Perhaps it is because this might happen,” he said as he suddenly lunged at her, stick raised in a level thrust.

 

With a startled cry Irse stepped backwards, but her foot could only go so far before she completely lost balance and fell on her rear. The elf winced in pain but got up as quickly as she could, dusting her trousers and her hands. “Unfair! You caught me by surprise!” she protested.

 

“And you expect enemies to announce themselves before they attack? Please point me to the direction of where such may be found. Their courtesy would be greatly appreciated,” Okami sniffed.

 

“Well, the monks always said I’m a rude wingless imp!” Irse shouted as she launched herself at her teacher without warning, wooden sword raised above her head. But as she brought it down upon him, Okami spun sideways out of her reach. Her momentum carried her forward past him, and she felt the wood tap at her back. A bit of a stumble, and she stopped to turn around and face him. But she wasn’t done yet.

 

Once more, the elf charged at him but her teacher effortlessly sidestepped again from her attack. They kept at it for a while – Irse frustratedly swinging her bokken in any direction she could muster yet Okami always remaining out of reach.

 

An old man on a horse-driven cart passed them by, going northward. “C’mon, my good man! Give the lass a chance, let her catch you once!” he laughed as he cracked at the reins and whistled at them.

 

Irse stopped to glare at the cart as it pulled away. From behind her, Okami’s wooden stick landed on the top of her head, gently yet firm enough for a lesson. She yelped at the blow as her head jerked down and her shoulders scrunched in.

 

“What was that for?” she griped as she rubbed at the sore spot.

 

“Do not be distracted by onlookers,” he scolded sharply. “Of all reasons to be defeated in a duel, it is the most _embarrassing_ one.”

 

“Aigh, sorry!” Irse replied sheepishly. “But what was that you were doing, anyway? I couldn’t hit you at all no matter how much I try.”

 

“ _Tenkan_ , a method to evade an attack. It can be done while standing normally but still requires you to move quickly into the proper stance where your rear foot leads to pull you out of the enemy’s path,” Okami explained.

 

“With improper posture, you are unbalanced, limited in your actions, and you position yourself to meet the enemy’s force head-on. Your stance is what is the root to the tree – it should keep you stable and grounded,” he said as he tapped at his leg. “But to be like water, allowing you to be fluid, quick, and adaptable in your movement whether in attack or defense,” he followed as he rotated gracefully to one side as if evading an imaginary opponent, simultaneously swinging his own practice sword at where the enemy’s neck would be.

 

The elf inhaled deeply, then gripped her practice sword as she tried to mirror the correct stance.

 

“Please show me, Teacher,” she entreated humbly, suddenly feeling a quiet wave of excitement when he responded with a gratified smile.

 

There was much to absorb, much to comprehend, but surely there was enough of the road and the journey ahead to let her learn and finally understand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We are grateful that you would let us ride with you the rest of the way,” Okami thanked the farmer, sitting at the front of the cart beside the old man.

 

“You’re both lucky ya caught up with me an’ old Kicker. I reckon’ the girl’s all winded from chasin’ at you so hard!” the farmer jested as he turned his head to wink at Irse sitting at the back of the cart. The elf shot him a grin that looked more like an angry grimace. The farmer merely chuckled.

 

Fortune had beamed upon them that day. Not far from where master and student had been practicing, the old farmer himself had stopped to nap, feed his horse, and nap some more. By the time the pair had come upon him, the old man had awoken, forgotten that he had already fed his horse, and had decided to shove another armful of hay at the beast which didn’t mind the second meal. Her teacher had inquired if the old farmer needed assistance of any kind, a conversation which quickly evolved to the latter offering to take them wherever they may be going as long as it was heading north.

 

They travelled over gently rolling hills, past sprawling farmlands. The two men exchanged pleasantries, weather maxims, opinions about root crops. The uninteresting conversation, combined with the heat of the morning sun climbing to its zenith, lulled Irse into a light sleep. Boredom and weariness finally allowed her to doze off despite the rickety cart wobbling its way upon the bumpy road.

 

She was roused by a hand upon the top of her head.

 

“We are here,” Okami called out.

 

The elf kneaded the corner of her eyes with her knuckles before pulling herself up. She pushed in between the two men, her mouth open in awe as they crossed an immense bridge. Stone posts and archways towered above them, the boulevard a wide network of innumerable bricks bordered by parapets near the height of a man. Beneath the structure, the River Chionthar flowed through, its mighty blue currents drawing the boats, smaller rafts, and floating scrubs onwards to the Sea of Swords to the west. Beyond the bridge, massive gray walls rose from the riverbank, an endless curtain of stone spanning both directions as far as her eyes could see. They were finally welcomed by a colossal gate, high and wide enough for a giant as the elf imagined. The portcullis was raised, its pointed iron grills like the teeth of a great monster while throngs of travelers fed themselves into the huge stone maw which gave her a peek into another world.

 

“Is this…?” she gasped as she looked up at her teacher.

 

Okami nodded at her. “Yes, it is.” he said quietly.

 

They were finally _here_.

 

_Baldur’s Gate._

 

 

 

 


	4. A Cobbled Path (Book One : From the Earth)

Happy New Year! Ah, wait. It’s February. Happy Lunar New Year!

 

 

To All, many thanks for reading! May your year ahead and after that be full of extra auspicious _things._ Like mooncakes with three, not just one, salted yolks. Yum.

 

* * *

 

THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE

 

Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 4 : A Cobbled Path        

* * *

 

“We’re here!” the old farmer announced as their cart stopped at what seemed the widest road anywhere in the East Docks. Gulls flying in all directions screeched overhead while around them, wagon wheels rattled and innumerable leather boots clacked upon uneven cobbles. Above the drone of innumerable voices and the bustle of harbor activity came the hoarse shouts of tradesfolk hawking their wares. The air was soaked with the stink of discarded fish entrails and fetid river water. The elf sneezed.

 

“Don’t care much for fish guts either. Rather be sniffin’ pig manure all day; at least you know the smell’s from somethin’ still alive!” the farmer snorted in agreement.

 

Okami alighted from his perch and held out a palm with some coins. “Please accept these for your troubles, Uncle,” he presented to the old man.

 

Irse canted her head as she looked at her Teacher curiously. Of course the two men were unrelated, but she had noticed how Okami often greeted elderly folks they passed by with either “uncle” or “auntie”. Another of his people’s odd customs, she supposed. With a half-grin, she wondered what would happen if she, an elf, went around calling every human adult as such. The look of scandal on their faces might be something to see. _Uncle Ulraunt!_ The young girl shivered, the thought immediately stamped down and abandoned.

 

“Nah, keep it for yourself an’ the lass. The Gate may not be suckin’ gold like that greed pot down south, but nothin’s free here either. You keepin’ me awake the rest of the way is payment enough,” the farmer clucked, grinning and waving away the offer.

 

“Our thanks then,” Okami said as he and Irse bowed at him. The old man nodded at them and cracked the reins. Her eyes followed the cart as it circled wide to turn around, then pulled away and moved up the road northwards. The old farmer had mentioned staying at the Outer City, but was kind enough to go out of his way and take them as far as the East Docks. She hoped Kicker would be treated to an apple later.

 

“Where to now, Teacher?” she asked.

 

“To Iriaebor where a former acquaintance of mine currently resides. We are to travel by water this time. It is much faster than if we were to head south and take the Uldoon Trail. At the very least, we avoid the risk of running into…” he cut off as he looked at Irse.

 

The elf understood. _More bandits_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They walked to the far end of the quay to a river ship, eighty feet long with two masts, docked apart from the rest. While other vessels had their names proudly painted on the bow, this one’s moniker was faded, scratched out in most places and barely readable. A lone woman labored by the boat, tall and sandy-haired, her broad muscled shoulders marred with not a few scars and tattoos while her suit of boiled leather was scuffed and nicked, having seen better days. She was inspecting the crates lined up on the dock alongside the ship, one hand carrying a sheathed shortsword and in the other a horned helm.

 

Okami approached her with a respectful nod. “Good day to you, Madam. May we speak with the captain of this ship?”

 

The woman shot him a glare that would’ve sent lesser men cowering. “ _I’m_ the _captain_ of this ship.”

 

Her teacher seemed unperturbed. “Will you be sailing the Chionthar within the day? We wish to acquire passage to Iriaebor,” he replied, gesturing to himself and Irse.

 

“And what if we are? Do I look like I let rats aboard my ship? Get out of my face! I don’t need a pathetic male in my vessel!” the woman captain yelled, dropping the helmet as her hand reached for the hilt of the sword. A slight nod from her Teacher and they both walked away but stopped after a few steps.

 

“Disdainful of men,” the blacksmith remarked in a low voice. “All the more reason for us to secure passage in her ship.”

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? From the looks of it, she’ll gore you with that helmet of hers if you so much as breathe in her direction.”

 

“I prefer to take chances with a man-hating captain than one who falsely professes chivalry.”

 

For a moment, Irse remembered their earlier attempts with the other vessels. The captains and their crew, all men, weren’t always outright rude and some even spoke with contrived flourish in an attempt to sound like high seas swashbucklers despite being riverboat folk. Yet inexplicably her Teacher would suddenly change his mind or tersely reject their terms. It was only in the fifth or so instance when she realized why. While the captain or any of the crew talked with Okami, their eyes would stray leeringly to her. Though garbed in a boy’s tunic and trousers, she had felt uncomfortable and gathered her cloak about her. A quick glance and she had seen the dark look on her Teacher’s face, only briefly, then masked again by his usual reserve.

 

“Shar-Teel! They’re gone!” a voice rang out. Another woman, dressed in the same manner as the captain, cracked spectacles on her nose and auburn hair messily gathered under a bandanna, ran down the plank and smacked the captain’s shoulder.

 

“Damn it, Nells! That’s _Captain_ Shar-Teel to you, rude bitch! How’re folks supposed to respect me when my own first mate can’t even address me proper!” the woman captain ranted. “Now who’s gone you say?”

 

“Risa and Beno! They haven’t returned since yesterday! One of the harbor hands saw them running out the docks arm-in-arm before jumping in a wagon. Now we’re two people short of a crew!”

 

“I should’ve tied them to the mast and lashed them when I caught them screwing on the deck. Didn’t I tell you – never hire a man! Didn’t I? You wouldn’t listen! Pigs! Would dig a dead rotting snatch out of the mud just to sard it! Feh!” Shar-Teel spat at the wooden planks.

 

Nells countered indignantly, “We wouldn’t have to hire him if you hadn’t fired Lolla for, as you said…” She paused and rolled her eyes. “… excessive _manwhore-mongering._ ”

 

“What would she need a dumb man for anyway? We’ve got _two masts_ in the ship, one for each of her ho---,” Shar-Teel began but was interrupted by another smack on the shoulder and a sharp look from the first mate. The captain glared back with murder in her eyes, but Nells held her ground, jaws set and eyes almost challenging the other woman. It seemed this wouldn’t be the first argument between them about crew discipline.

“Beno’s the only experienced freehand we could find then. We need to leave within the day but where are we supposed to round up two extra hands at such short notice?” the first mate continued then looked around, noticing the elf and Kozakuran watching them.

 

“How about those two? Weren’t they looking to hire themselves?”

 

“Nah. They want a boat going to Iriaebor. Told them to bugger off.”

 

Okami approached them, his head in a respectful bow. “Captain Shar-Teel, please forgive my presumptuousness. May I speak?”

 

The blonde woman’s expression brightened a bit. “Yeah, go ahead.” Then she scowled. “But make it quick.”

 

“I am somewhat acquainted with the workings of ship crews in my journeys. If you would take us with you, not only will we labor without compensation, but we will also pay for our passage,” he bargained.

 

Nells excitedly poked at Shar-Teel’s ribs. “C’mon. Paying workers! Take them already!”

 

Shar-Teel elbowed her first mate. “Shut up! I’m the captain; I make the decisions here!” She balled a fist and pointed her thumb at each of them

 

“You two don’t happen to be _lovers_ now, hmmm?”

 

The elf’s eyes widened, her face suddenly red at the question.

 

“No, we are not,” Okami answered, unruffled as if he had been asked if he had three heads and a tail. “I am a blacksmith and she is my apprentice.”

 

The captain grunted, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Don’t want any hanky-panky business on _my_ ship like what happened to my _ex-crew_.” She eyed Irse from head to toe. “Besides, that girl’s got to be _too old_ for you.”

 

“What do you mean by _too old_?” Irse demanded.

 

The captain sniggered wickedly, “Yeah, elf girl. Sure it looks like you just popped out of your momma’s gash this morning but I’m betting you’re really two hundred years old. Your kind are like that. You’re not fooling Shar-Teel an’ her sharp eyes!”

 

Bewildered, the young elf looked to her teacher. Okami merely closed his eyes, his brows raised in amusement. “Had you said so, I may have fashioned you a cane instead of a sword,” he said with a slight quirk of his lips. She scratched the back of her ear and grumbled in reply.

 

“Yeah, they’re hired. _Temporarily,”_ Shar-Teel declared, then suddenly shoved a pointing finger a mere inch from Okami’s face.

 

“But you, milksop… _extra-temporarily_ ,” she growled. Her outstretched hand curled into a fist and with that she cuffed the blacksmith quick and hard at his collarbone.

 

Irse’s breath hitched, yet her Teacher remained composed, his eyes neither reciprocating nor submitting. The captain put on a gratified smirked before turning her back on them to pick up her helmet and stroll up the ship’s plank.

 

Nonetheless, the first mate beamed with relief and adjusted her glasses. “Right! You heard the Captain. We set sail at the third bell – won’t hurt to get in as much hours as we can before dark. Our other crewmate, Dotie, is out and about the Docks right now, getting what things we need for the journey. You best do the same for yourselves before we leave,” Nells instructed them before she herself climbed up the ship.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After buying provisions from the wet market and a quick midday meal of cheap fish stew from an itinerant hawker, her Teacher had opted to stay by the boat to pitch in with the preparations while she explored a bit more of the Gate, or at least what she could in the next couple of hours. Clearly he had not much taste for the commotion and crowds, but the girl couldn’t help herself. The farthest she had been outside the monastery walls was the edge of the village. Even Beregost down south was just an oft-mentioned name. Now was the chance to finally see Baldur’s Gate and who knew if this was the last time she would pass this way?

 

A quick reminder from Okami to be mindful and wary, to stay away from dark corners and alleys, and she was off for a look around. With her pack slung on her shoulder, she walked away from the docks and kept to the main road to help her remember her way back. It steeped upwards then sharply leveled after a few blocks. Stone buildings with gray walls adorned by brightly painted shutters and window boxes rose like islands in a patchwork sea of people, animals, and wagons. In the smaller side streets, stone buttresses arched above the narrower lanes, appearing as if they were bridges between the upper floors of the structures though it seemed only cats and pigeons would dare the crossing.

 

 _So many people!_ Not even the summer high season brought this much to the great Library; her mind toyed with the question of how many of these folks Winthrop could fit in the old inn before the whole thing bursts at the seams. She grinned at the thought and pressed on. There was no destination in particular, only excitement at seeing as much as she could of this place so new and foreign to her.

 

 _New and foreign_. Yet as she crossed each block, each step over a cobblestone, an odd feeling came over her. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the walls of the buildings ahead and behind her. This place, no, not the Docks, but this – _being here_ , it was familiar to her. _Had she been here before?_ It wasn’t unlikely though. Her foster father could have brought her here as an infant on his way to Candlekeep from – _where?_ Even so, it would have been impossible for her to remember anything at that age.

 

Then came a tug, quiet and small, yet insistent. With a start, she looked at her feet, at the cobblestones. _As when Imoen, younger and shorter, would yank at her sleeve to get the elf to look down at her._

 

Irse furrowed her brows at the source of the invisible pull. _Down? Where? In the ground?_

 

She shrugged her shoulders, the weird impression immediately banished from her mind.

 

 _Just imagining things_. _Must be lingering hunger. After all, the air had more “fish” than that stew with more water than the river._

 

* * *

 

 

Wooden boards hung by doors proclaiming the wares and services sold within – some with drawings of boots or shirts, others a tankard, some a lute or a fiddle, or scrolls and bottles. But not all shops were indoors – there were outdoor stalls as well displaying all manner of goods. Jumbled piles of silver and copper trinkets lay on blankets spread upon the ground, next to carts of pottery and jars of varying size and function. Boxes of old tomes and rolled up parchments sat side by side with crates of fruit.

 

She stopped by a kiosk where rolls of cloth were stacked against the wall, and observed as a woman haggled with a merchant over a bolt of fabric. A brief memory of Ilphas and Tannyl flashed in her mind. In the woods along the Coast Way, some bandits were now likely sleeping on fur, sporting silk beneath rough leathers while robbing common folk with barely a cloak on their backs. The elf sighed and moved on to the other stalls.

 

One sign caught her interest despite the chipped red paint – a sword and axe crisscrossed. It wouldn’t hurt to look inside even for just a minute. She wandered into the shop, surprisingly quiet and empty save for a young man dozing behind a wooden counter. Immediately she was awestruck by the sheer number of weapons of varying sizes and make displayed upon the racks lining the walls.

 

An idea seized upon her. What if she bought her own and get Okami to teach her with a _real_ blade instead of this clumsy stick? Wouldn’t that help her learn faster? And then she could be on her own much sooner, find her answers and be back at Candlekeep before the next midwinter feast – _just as she had promised_. Irse remembered counting a few gold coins, a pair of jeweled rings and a bracelet from the elven merchants’ hidden stash. These should be enough for a working weapon.

 

 _Swords!_ She rushed over to the display of unsheathed blades. But how best to pick out one for herself? Will it be as one of the stories she read back at home where the hero must choose from among a pile of seemingly old and broken weapons and the plainest one would turn out to be the legendary long-lost sword of his clan – just needing a spit and polish, or the blood of a self-sacrificing maiden to get its dull runes to shine. At least here in the store, she wouldn’t have to fight a dragon guardian with a name of jumbled consonants to get hers.

 

Or perhaps the other way around – the blade itself, an ancient relic, would call to her and elect her as its sole and worthy owner.  There were such swords, she vaguely remembered from the tales. _Moonblades_ , they were called. Wielded only by the bravest, strongest, most skilled, most valorous, and of course, the most strapping, broad-shouldered, tallest, ruddy and handsomest of warriors among the elves.

 

The elven girl let out a dreamy sigh as her eyes swept over the swords displayed upon the racks. Most of them were plain but a few were at least pretty enough, adorned with some simple design so as to be imagined a storied old family heirloom.

  

Her hand reached out, about to take one by the grip.

 

“Is there something you’re looking for?” It was the shop assistant, disheveled and bleary-eyed. The sour look on his face was unmistakable annoyance at the interruption to his afternoon nap.

 

“Oh! I’m thinking I could buy a sword?” she inquired nervously. And then with a bit more excitement at remembering the small wealth in her pack, she added, “Would it be all right if I look at the best ones? Or maybe not the best ones, just something _better_ than the usual? You know, a sword with some…”

 

She narrowed her eyes and flitted her fingers enigmatically.

 

"... _Mmmagic_?”

 

The young man eyed her as if she was the bluntest blade in the rack.

  
“You mean an _enchanted_ sword?”

 

“Is that what they’re called?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ah-haha! I knew that! I just… forgot?” Irse chuckled timidly.

 

“Yeah, we had a few them come in the other day. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d want one for yourself. After all, your kind makes a lot of those, even better than what we sell here. But as we always say, if you can’t make your own then buy one.”

 

“Great! Will this be enough?” she asked as she plunged her hand inside her pack. The elf licked her lips as she rummaged through the items hastily stuffed inside. _Ah here it is!_

 

Fingers squeezed at the pouch. She pulled it out, puzzled at the unfamiliar feel; mainly because it was no longer a red velvet purse tied with a silver string, filled mostly with hard coins.

 

It was now a small, brown, dusty loosely knotted sackcloth. _Filled with sand and small rocks._

Panicked, she flung the pouch over her shoulder and frantically rummaged through her stuff once more.

 

Clothes, clothes, bandages, stick, clothes. _Hole_.

 

Fingers wiggled as they poked out of a sizable tear at her pack. Someone had slashed her bag, taken her money, and switched them with a weighted decoy!

 

Bewildered, she looked up at the shop assistant with a helpless grin. The young man didn’t seem amused.

 

* * *

 

 

She was embarrassed. _And penniless now_.

 

Not only did the purse contain the elf merchants’ gold and jewelry, but all the other coin, mostly coppers and a bit of silver she had saved and earned from when extra help was needed at the inn. All her _life savings_ – gone!

 

The elf had dashed out of the store, her mind racing. But how and when did they do the deed? She was moving most of the time, not stopping long enough to give anyone the opportunity. Where the thieves that quick and light handed? And how could she not have noticed that her bag was suddenly slightly lighter; granted that it wasn’t that much gold and the trinkets themselves were of delicate make. Th elf groaned. Of course, a doe-eyed country bumpkin gawking at everything and everyone in the big city. Distracted, easy picking for cutpurses, might as well have scrawled “Rob Me” in red ink on her back.

 

The urge to sit down and cry was fighting with the urge to smack her head with the bag of rocks. _Maybe she shouldn’t have tossed that away._

 

Whoever they were, one or perhaps two, they could not have gotten far. A gleam from a polished helm and a halberd standing tall above the sea of heads caught her attention. Painted on the chest of his plate armor was an inverted diamond enclosing an upturned red fist in a blaze. _Flaming Fist!_ Hope welled up in her heart as she hurried towards the guard.

 

“Help me! Please! I’ve been robbed! Someone took my money!” she cried.

 

The man’s lips scrunched, his pauldrons rising lazily before dropping with a dramatic sigh. “Sure, sure. Were you hurt, girl?” he asked without even looking at her.

 

“What?” she blurted, surprised by his seeming indifference.

 

“I _said_ , were you hurt? Thief stabbed you in the side? Held a knife to your throat?”

 

“No, Sir. Just my pack. They cut open my pack and took my money while I wasn’t looking.”

 

“Tough luck. Nothin’ I can do ‘bout it. Consider yourself lucky. Maybe next time you better watch your stuff more closely,” the guard said, his eyes still averted, looking straight ahead.

 

“But, Sir! It was everything I--,” Irse persisted as she reached out to grab the man’s arm. Before she could touch him, her hand was roughly swatted away. The butt of the halberd stomped on the stone pavement as a warning.

 

“You want me to look for the lowlife who pinched some measly coppers off of you? No, _elf_. They posted me here to watch for big trouble, not to barge into the Guild like some dumb hero and get shanked in the neck. Now move along!” the guard barked at her.

 

She raised both palms in surrender, backing slowly before walking away. The girl turned around, hands on her head in frustration. Distraught, she marched along with the crowd, her feet leading her into the side streets, turning into one before being jostled off into another, then another, and another.

 

Her eyes scanned the countless faces streaming by, hoping to find any shady hooded character who could now be proudly wearing the stolen trinkets out in plain sight. _Don’t be a ninnyhammer!_ She scolded herself. _Would a thief be so dumb as to count his loot out in the open_? Well, maybe she would, if she was one since she could never resist hanging around at the scene of her “crimes” back at the Keep. It was always the snickering that gave her away. The “pride of a perfidious perpetrator being one of the _signs” –_ as Ulraunt always sternly said to her foster father; though a sign of _what_ , the Keeper of Tomes never really did say.

 

Guiltily, she wondered if this was what a handful of the Avowed who studied eastern philosophy often referred to as _karma_ – something along the lines of reaping what you sow and things coming back to you a hundredfold.

 

The elf pouted. Surely the gods would agree this was a lopsided punishment for that time she replaced the bottom cabbages in Dreppin’s wicker basket with rocks. It wasn’t her fault that the groundskeeper would rather carry the burden on his back than put it on Nessie, his beloved cow. The man was already a third through the Lion’s Way en route to the village before he realized that cabbages weren’t supposed to weigh like the world upon his shoulders. This time though, the girl didn’t smile at the memory, feeling instead the sting of loss and humiliation of having been preyed upon so easily.

 

Another turn, another street. Her fruitless search turned up no cowled criminals with obviously criminal faces. Everyone seemed _not_ suspicious _and_ suspicious at the same time. It was hopeless. Might as well give up and head back to the docks.

 

She retraced her steps, expecting to come out into the avenue that sloped down to the Docks yet she emerged into another level street that looked just like the one she had come from – similar in that it was also a noisy stretch of a cobbled path lined with stalls selling the same assortment of _everything_ , manned by people dressed in the same drabness selling to folks in the same dinginess.

 

 _How in Toril could everything and everyone appear the same in a huge place like this?_ And that bossy dwarf, Reevor, once said that all elves looked alike!

The street intersected with one that looked just like it and continued into another one of the same. Even tiptoed and craned her neck to peek at the horizon but it only flowed into endless streets, and a wall of buildings and towers beyond. _Ask the locals then?_ But what if they also turned out to be thieves, or worse? The hole in her bag would be nothing compared to a bigger, deeper, bloody hole in her back. It was hopeless.

 

Irse looked up to the sky, but it was only past noon and the Mirtul sun stayed directly overhead, no way of telling where east or west could be. Nells said they'll sail at the third hour. A bell had tolled somewhere, yet how many, she could not remember. Dread began to creep in. What if they sail without her? At the very least Okami wouldn't leave his apprentice behind, would he? But it had only been days - not long enough for him to decide she'd be worth the trouble. Her stomach churned. Back to square one then but in a _bigger_ square - broke and alone in a place like this. No wonder none of the folks who'd been outside the Keep had spoken fondly of big cities - always telling them off with a foreboding "… places like that’ll swallow you whole, chew you up, then spit you out for the rats to gnaw on what's left!"

 

For the first time in her life, she knew she was lost.

 

 

 

 


	5. Not Rocks! (Book One : From the Earth)

**Gentle Readers, many thanks for giving an eye to this wee tale. May you have a great week ahead! :)**

* * *

THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE  
Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 5 : Not Rocks!

* * *

 

She had finally worked up the courage to ask for directions. Unfortunately, she was given enough versions to make oneself doubt that they were even in the same city. _And all from people in the same street_.

_Walk one block, then turn left, then left again at d’ end o’ that block, then left. Keep left-in’._

_Wouldn’t I be walking in circles?_

_Rude girl! You don’t live here! You think you know better than me!_

_I’m sorry… Ma’am. An annoyed emphasis on the salutation. But wouldn’t I be walking in circles?_

_Now that’s better! … No._

_Aww! Poor elf! Must be scary being out of the woods and away from your tree friends, eh?_

_I don’t li-… tree friends?_

_Do I look like the bloody Fist? Go bother them instead!_

_I cannot, Sir. I haven’t been stabbed in the face. Yet._

_Straight ye be walkin’ in yonder course now. To the docks maybe ye won’t go, but come to the sea ye will somehow._

_But I’m not going to the sea. I’m going to the river._

_Well, they be both water anyways!_

Eventually, someone, a stall owner, managed to give her what could pass for proper directions. She thanked the woman, casting longing glances at the skewered pork roasting over the brazier between them. Almost tempted to grab one of the spits and run but the meat was still raw. Irse clutched at her stomach, rubbing it in the hopes of muffling the angry gurgling.

 

* * *

 

Weary feet, worried steps, and an empty belly. The elf shuffled listlessly along the narrow street, hunger clouding her vision that she didn’t notice a furry little blur darting into her path until it was too late.

Her foot inadvertently kicked a small yet weighty body.

“Sorry, kitty!” Irse excused herself as she bent down to look at the…

 _Huge rat_ , with black matted fur and nearly the size of a small cat. It stood on its hind legs and hissed, _offended,_ then scampered away to disappear into a nearby alley.

The elf blinked in disbelief. She was about to move on when the sound of a barrel overturning, metal clinking, and bottles breaking emanated from the backstreet.

_Darned thing must’ve run into stuff and knocked it over._

“This whole dive’s got too many vermin already! We don’t need your kind startin’ any nests here!”

It came from the same alley. At the man’s words, she jerked in disgust and unconsciously scratched her arm in revulsion. Are the rats in this city so numerous, its citizens could not help but talk at them in frustration?

“Deekin no vermin! Deekin no live in nest, only wants dry hole to sleeps in.”

_And are they so huge they actually talk back?!_

Curiosity egged her to peek into the alleyway. The giant rat was already perched on another barrel, cleaning itself meticulously, perhaps of contact with the elf.

But the man, greasy face and greasy clothes, was talking to someone, or rather, something else. He towered over a small hooded figure as high as his knees. From beneath its raggedy cloak a spotted narrow tail poked out curled, and the creature was hunched and trembling beside a burlap sack nearly twice its size.

“Hah, so this one can talk? How’s ‘bout I sell you to some freakshow, make enough coin for a pint!” the man sneered as he reached down to grab the cowled little creature.

“No! Don’t sell Deekin! He not worth much!” the hooded little figure begged. But the brute roughly grabbed it anyway, hauling it to its feet. The creature wriggled in the man’s grasp and struggled pathetically to reach for its sack as if its very life were in its belongings.

“Please don’t hurt Deekin! Deekin mean no harm to anyone!” it cried piteously.

Its frightened yips filled the alley, high-pitched whines like a distressed pup. Irse turned away and leaned against the wall, clutching at the collar of her tunic. This was clearly none of her business, one of those things that happen to anyone, any day, out of reach of anyone’s care. And the creature wasn’t even human.

_Walk away now, enough problems for today, get back to going back to the docks before you forget the directions._

But whatever it was, it was clearly alone, unarmed. And scared. A brief memory of the same helplessness, fear, and smallness pricked at her heart. Not too long ago. With a deep breath, she pulled the bokken from her pack and stepped in.

“Hey! Leave him alone! Pick on someone your own size!” Irse shouted as she brandished the stick.

The thug turned to look at her, dropping the creature to the ground. “What? You pals with this li’l shite? You in some gang, huh?” he sneered.

He advanced, rubbing his fists. The girl stepped back, her grip evidently shaky on the weapon. Holding the bokken with both hands, she stiffened her arms and raised the wooden sword higher in front of her.

Was she holding the stance correctly? Perhaps it wouldn’t matter now as Okami wasn’t there to tell her – what with him being far away and at the docks this very moment. At the docks where she could have been safe and not facing down a stranger in a dark alley. But it was too late to back out now.

The man lunged at her. She inelegantly stepped to the side and brought down the stick at his shoulder. Wood connected with muscle – yet the blow was unsure, wasn’t strong enough. He staggered forward past the elf, clutching his shoulder, but stayed on his feet. He spun around to face her, the ire clear upon his oily face.

Irse was now standing between the thug and the little creature. “Run! Run!” she shouted at it. But when she craned her neck to look, it was gone, the top of its pack thrown open. Hopefully off to call for help – but would the Fist even notice something so small and timid?

He rushed at her again. But before Irse could raise her bokken, the man suddenly froze in his tracks. Frozen – eyes bulging in surprise, mouth open wide in a grimace, fingers splayed as if grabbing at the air before him.

“Hmph! That should teach bad human a lesson!” the creature sniggered.

It was already standing by her side, its tiny clawed hand clutching a wand that it pointed at the man. As it lifted its gaze to her, its hood fell back from its head, revealing a lizard-like snout, scaly gray skin, a row of short horn-like bumps running across the top of its head.

The elf’s eyes widened. “Oh, hello?” she greeted hesitantly as she let down the wooden sword. _What is this strange creature?_

Beady little eyes narrowed at her. “What? You not seen _kobold_ before? Deekin not surprised. Elfs walk tall, nose in air, never look if one not pretty like them. But you, you helped Deekin! Nice elf girl…,” he said as he canted his diminutive head. “… with chewed up pointy ear? Who did that? Bad human too?”

“Uh, yes, a bad human. But not all of them are bad. Sometimes we’re unlucky we run into the rotten ones. But there’s a lot of good people out there, too.”

Deekin tucked the wand into his cloak. “Right, right you are. Bad humans, good humans. But Deekin wishes it were easy to tell. Wishes they say first they’re bad before they kick or pull the tail so Deekin don’t have to ask!”

The elf nodded in sad agreement. If only the world worked in such manner – and one always learned it wasn’t so in the hardest way.

The kobold shuffled over to his pack which appeared to be bursting at the seams. Deekin hastily stuffed the wand inside yet pulled out several items and dumped them on the ground.

“Are you looking for someone here at the Gate?” Irse asked.

The pile beside the sack grew steadily as the kobold yanked out and tossed scrolls, wands, daggers, a sword or two, a helmet, a bottle…

“No, Deekin only passing through. Deekin come from near Waterdeep. Climbs into wagon to hide from the rain, sleeps in a crate of nice warm hay. Sleep too well so next thing you know, Deekin already in a ship to Baldur’s Gate! Takes him far too south! Now Deekin looking for wagon to take him back north. No more ships!” the kobold squeaked as he pulled up a fur-trimmed boot and carelessly chucked it at the heap.

“Found it!” Deekin cried triumphantly. He proudly held up a ring, a simple metal band crusty with patina. “Wizard say this is ring to make you invisible. Deekin wears this, and jumps into wagon, no one will bother and throw Deekin out.”

With unnatural swiftness, the kobold gathered most of the things into his arms and managed to stuff everything back into the bag. A few swipes at the remaining bottles and scrolls and then these were tossed back into the pack as well.

“Well, good for you,” Irse laughed as she tucked the bokken in her own pack. “Be careful out there, Mr. Deekin. I hope you get back to wherever you’re going, safe and in one piece.” Tail and snout and all. She gave the kobold a quick bow and made to leave the alley.

“Wait, elf girl! Deekin not give you reward yet!”

She circled around to reply. “Really, there’s no need for that. You stopped him anyway; I didn’t do much at all.”

“No, no! Deekin wants to!” the kobold insisted, waving its skinny scaly arms to beckon at the elf. She obliged and walked back to him. Deekin tapped at his snout, grunting in high pitches as he seemed wracked by indecision.

“But what to give you? Must give you the best, most magical knickknack! And the heaviest too, make it easy for Deekin to carry stuffs,” he giggle-yipped. The elf raised an eyebrow.

“Ah-ha! Maybe elf girl can choose?” the kobold offered as he opened his pack and started rummaging again.

“Please, no. It’s not necessary,” Irse objected, genuinely embarrassed. Gorion would have scolded her for even agreeing to accept anything from anyone who didn’t seem to have much themselves.

“Okay, okay! How about elf girl choose but you don’t see what you’ll choose?”

She knitted her brow, puzzled. “All right?”

“Close your eyes, close your eyes!” Deekin barked excitedly.

She squatted before the kobold and shut her eyes, humming as she waited, her frown deepening at the sounds of indistinguishable rattling, thumping, and yipping.

“Now you choose – left, right, middle.”

She reached out her hand and wriggled her fingers. Where should she go? Left? Right? Middle? Why not simply pick anything, make it a gamble? No, this was still a choice and it has to count.

_Wait, how would Gorion choose? How would Okami choose?_

Her foster father would probably say to choose with her conscience – or some such, however that could work. Her Teacher would most likely say to choose with her instinct – however that could work too, and then spout off another unrelated Kozakuran proverb just for good measure.

Her mind was buzzing with arguments – not too unlike the monks squabbling over their studies during supper or at the gardens. Pick the left – but why, just because? The right, for what reason, because she’s right-handed? Or the middle, because the straight-ahead path is always the correct one?

“Elfs live hundreds and hundreds of years. Do they also wait hundreds and hundreds of years to choose?” Deekin complained.

“I’m sorry. Give me a minute, please,” Irse apologized, her eyes still closed. This was becoming frustrating. A simple choice, but one she couldn’t make herself so easily. The debates were getting louder.

 _Quiet!_ She demanded, inside. And breathed. And felt nothing, thought nothing. The world outside the alley whirled on, footsteps and conversations passing by and then gone. _Nothing._

And in that nothing, her hand moved of its own accord, drawn by an unseen string vibrating. To her left.

Irse opened her eyes. In disbelief, she glanced at the choices she had passed over. To her right – a gilded crossbow, in the middle in front of her – an ornamented short sword.

And to her left where her right hand hovered above – four of the plainest looking rocks one could find by the side of the road.

Before her shoulders could sag in disappointment, the kobold clapped his hands and leaped over and over in excitement.

“Elf girl made the best choice! She must have choosing magic!”

“Rocks?” Irse asked politely, though with effort.

He gathered the stones and held them up for her to see. “Kurtulmak! They’re not rocks, they’re meteorites! Stones from the sky! One night, Deekin saw them fall like dragonfire, then followed them to where they made big burning hole in the ground!”

She placed a hand upon her mouth, amazed. _Meteorites._ Brother Karan had mentioned these – objects from the heavens beyond Toril, journeying through the stars until drawn to this world’s atmosphere.

Deekin placed the meteorites in her hands and gave her a small sack to carry them in. Dusky gray with flecks of red, surface twisted and pocked in some places, and surprisingly heavier than their size would suggest.

So these were the very things that shoot down from the sky in a brilliant yet brief streak of light. Stars that carried her wishes as she sat upon the tower roof in Candlekeep, gazing wistfully at the moon in his beauty gliding across the firmament above the Sea of Swords.

“But these are rare! They must be valuable. I can’t accept these, you might need them more than I do,” Irse protested as she tried to give them back. The kobold waved his hands dismissively.

“No, no! Deekin keep trying to sell but everyone thinks Deekin not saying the truth,” the kobold said dejectedly.

“Now Deekin gots no use for them, but still _too precious to throw at stupid gnomes!_ ”

She stared at the rocks in her palms, tightening her grip in one hand while rubbing her other thumb across the surface of another. She wouldn’t know what to do with them either, but the mere thought of holding a piece of the heavens in one’s hands was already incredible in itself.

Perhaps she could hang on to them, give them to Gorion, Imoen, and Karan as presents. Well, knowing them knowing her, they would likely insist she was sporting with them and giving them mere chunks of coal. But Gorion, the sage, would surely identify them to be real for he knew much knowledge and required her to learn them.

_Required her to learn of many things and all, except for the truth._

She paused for a moment, and forcefully exhaled to expel the thoughts from her head.

“What about him?” Irse asked and pointed at the man still unmoving from the spell that Deekin’s wand had cast.

“Him? No worry for him, he moves again later,” the kobold said.

“Oh, all right. I suppose we should get going -” She looked back at Deekin.

“… then?”

The kobold and his pack were already gone. Round the corner of the end of the alley, a tiny almost embarrassed toot whistled faintly.

The elf sniffed at the air and coughed, but smiled forgivingly. She hastily stuffed the meteorites into the sack, made a step to leave the alley but turned back to look at the man.

Looked at the alley exit, at the man again, and considered something for a moment. Making shifty glances around her, Irse took hold of the man’s hands and stuffed his thumbs all the way up into his nostrils.

And then she sprinted out of the backstreet with a snicker and a grin of exhilaration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a few scribblings here:
> 
> Deekin Scalesinger appears courtesy of Neverwinter Nights. Perhaps a significant break from his canon, but I’m sure Master Tymofarrar would forgive the little guy as long as he brings home a pie. 
> 
> Chapter title and Deekin’s exclamation (“Kurtulmak! They’re not rocks…”) are references to Breaking Bad character Hank Schaeder’s line - “Jeez, Marie! They aren’t rocks! They’re minerals!” or some such. XD
> 
> Am now sorely desirous to write Xan saying, “I am the One who Dooms.”


	6. Pebbles at the Gate (Book One : From the Earth)

Dearest Readers, my thanks as always. May your skies everyday be as blue and clear as the one outside my window. ^_^

 

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 6 : Pebbles at the Gate**

 

 

* * *

 

 

"S'cuse me! Comin' through!" 

It was the only warning she got before something barreled right into her. Wind and the bag of meteorites were knocked out of her lungs and hands, and the sky suddenly filled her field of vision as she sailed backwards before landing on the ground. At least the backpack cushioned her spine from the impact but it left her awkwardly prone upon the pavement. 

 _Like the bugs she used to tip over with a stick, back at home, wriggling and helpless_. The elf sighed and resolved to be a bit more compassionate towards little critters.

"Sorry, sir! I mean- miss! Sorry!" 

At her side, a little girl was on her knees, tousled pink hair a stark contrast with the brownish rags she wore. It took a moment of collecting her wits before she noted the chiseled heart-shaped face smeared with mud and somewhat elongated though rounded ears. _A halfling._  

"Watch where you're going," Irse huffed as she pulled herself up and struggled to stand. Irritated, the elf patted at her trousers and checked her sleeves, frowning at the patches on her elbows. As if it weren’t enough to be showered with the dust of the road, now she was mopping the filthy cobbles of the city.

"I didn't mean to! I was in a hurry!" the halfling girl piped meekly. Small hands apologetically dusted at Irse's behind, her back, even her knees.

"No, no. That's enough, really. I'm all right. Just be careful," she said crossly. 

"If you say so, _ma'am_!" the halfling girl chirped before dashing off without another glance.

 _Well, the kid really seemed to be in a hurry_. At least she herself wasn't. There was still an hour or more before the third bell. Irse watched the girl scurry away, then put her hands on her hips and stomped one foot to shake off the dust at the side of her shoe. She bent down to pick up the sack of meteorites.

 _Gone_.

 _The halfling_! Irse growled and turned around. Not wasting another moment, she launched herself in the direction where she last saw the kid, pushing roughly through the passersby and ignoring the angry grunts and protests. As she raced through the crowds, Irse jogged and skipped to peer over the moving wall of shoulders. Someone once mentioned she was quite tall for a female elf, yet amongst humans, she still felt dwarfed, annoyed that she had to keep hopping just to get the little thief in her sights.

She finally spotted the halfling, strolling briskly, perhaps seeking new pickings, oblivious that her victim was already in pursuit. Then the little girl suddenly picked up pace, widening the distance between them.  

 _She's getting away! Do something!_ Perhaps if she called everyone’s attention, someone would help her.

“Thief! Stop her! The halfling!”

As expected, the pink-haired girl paused, turned around, mouth gaping in surprise at seeing the elf pointing at her. But as not expected, only a few heads turned, shrugged, then went on with their business. The rest didn’t even seem to notice at all!

The halfling’s eyes darted around, then seeing the inattention of the crowd, shrugged her shoulders apologetically at Irse, then turned tail and ran.

“Awww! C’mon, folks!” Irse wailed, arms flailing for a moment before she gave chase once more. Unfortunately, the thief was now alert to her, moving faster, nimbly weaving her way through passing pedestrians. The elf did her best to catch up, lungs starting to burn with desperation.

They reached the end of the street, blocked by a parked uncovered wagon clearly intended to close off incoming traffic. The girl dived beneath it, disappearing from the elf’s view. Irse finally reached the carriage, ran around it but halted.

An intersection, crowds coming and going in all directions. She whirled around, but saw no sign of the halfling. Panic gnawed at her heart for she knew by the time she had thoroughly checked all possible routes, the thief would surely be gone by then.

Again she looked up at the sky, clear and endless, a flock of gulls sailing overhead. How peaceful their lives must be, the elf mused with envy. Free and far above the mess she was in now, to their eyes the world below would have been laid out like a map – everything smaller and seen in a single glance.

 _Wait_.

She snapped out of it and quickly considered something as her gaze swept around her. _Why not? The buildings here aren’t as tall as the tower back at home – but it should be possible!_

No ladder close by, but the wagon to her left was already against the wall, brake lock engaged. Quickly, the elf scrambled for its side, one foot slipping into the hub of the wheel closest to the wall, the other finding purchase on the sideboard allowing her to climb into the wagon bed. She mounted the piled crates, high enough to let her grasp at the eaves. The elf pulled herself over, a silent prayer to whichever god ruled all roofs and shingles in the realms that the carpenters in the Gate were a quarter as good as the ones who built the Keep.

Once fully standing on the rooftop which thankfully didn’t slant as sharply as the houses in the village back at home, Irse cast a quick sweeping glance at the entire street in all directions then crossed over the mid ridge to do the same for the one on her right. The halfling and her pink hair was still nowhere in sight.

Now to get to the rooftops across the street, to her left. She scooted over to where the wagon was parked only to find it being pushed away by several men.

The elf gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, hurled an imaginary stone at the wagon, then sighed. Of course, it shouldn’t be impossible to climb down even without a ladder, but she just wished the world could smile on her today and the things in her path either _not be in the way_ , or at least be _a way._

The roof was still two stories high. She could try lowering herself by the edge to get closer to the ground, then jump down, hopefully without breaking a leg. Irse was about to crouch down and begin when a familiar furry little form scurried along the eaves and towards her. Remembering the last encounter, the elf politely got up to give it room to pass. Her eyes followed the rat as it scampered away in the direction from where she came.

Several feet away, the rat then turned to its right and casually crossed a stone buttress which spanned the street below, connecting with one of the buildings directly across her.

_Just like a small bridge._

Without wasting another moment, Irse dashed over to the buttress, stopping at its edge. Too narrow for human passage for which it was not built, but wide enough for two feet to stand on. Well then, if it could hold a well-fed rat several times in a day, then it should hold a starving elf once. 

She placed one foot upon it. Slowly? No, there wasn’t time. One deep breath and she began the crossing, arms raised to the sides to steady herself.

A quarter of the way, someone yelled, “Get down from there!” followed by, “Crazy kid!”

“Sorry!” Irse replied, out of reflex. The next step wobbled and she immediately crouched down to grasp at the sides. _Don’t stop!_ _The tower at home was much higher than this! You can’t let her get away!_

Brows furrowed with determination, the elf got up, quickened her pace and emptied her mind with everything except for the end of the pathway. As she did, a sense of knowing came upon her, each footfall assured by a natural rhythm. Swift yet steady, the body instinctively balancing itself, the narrow buttress becoming a sure path beneath her feet. Before she knew it, she was already on the roof of the other building.

No time to celebrate, though. Irse crossed over the mid ridge and scanned the other street. Again, no sign of the halfling. Wherever she was, the little scamp would certainly be hiding now in some hole, gloating over the stolen prize. A sack of rocks. _Her sack of rocks_.

The double sting of losing something so rare and valuable, and losing to a street urchin goaded her to keep looking. But she was so tired. _And hungry_. In an hour they will be leaving anyway; the thought of food and Okami waiting for her brought a measure of comfort. And a trip through the river! She had never been on a riverboat – certainly not as grand as the seafaring galleons she had read about, but still it was something and at least not as dangerous. And a boat would be equivalent to a roof over the head at night. _And getting fed._

Irse settled herself by the edge, retying her hair and tightening the string. From her perch, she could now see all the way to the Docks, confirming the directions from the stall owner. She could at least sit down for a moment, enjoy the view and catch her breath.

As she waited, her eyes idly watched the people below go about their business. Several minutes went by, and then from behind a pile of barrels not too far, pink hair and brown rags emerged, furtively looking sideways.

The elf saw and tensed, edging away slightly to keep from being seen. The halfling appeared relieved, finally venturing out and squatting at the dirty pavement. Her little head perked up at apparent interest at the sight of a small group walking by. Not richly dressed yet clean, likely servants or artisans with at least a coin pouch on their person. The halfling slowly stood up, eyes locked onto her new targets. The elf did the same. Quietly and quickly, Irse walked briskly ahead of the group’s direction. Right away, the roof sloped down to a storey’s height as the adjoining building was much lower. Low enough now for the elf to climb down without a ladder.

Irse was soon standing on the street. She strolled up to the approaching troop, then stopped as they streamed past her. Sure enough, the little thief had followed them in another attempt. The halfling bumped into her again, but this time, the elf remained standing.

“Hey,” Irse greeted, though unfriendly.

The little girl squeaked and turned around to flee but was quickly caught by the elf’s much longer and determined reach. The halfling struggled and hugged the sack to her body as Irse worked to pry it off.

“Lemme’ go you stupid pointy-ears or I swears I’ll cut you!” the halfling girl threatened.

Irse smirked. “Want me to put you down so you can say that to my _knee_?”

The elf tightened her embrace despite the desperate squirming. “Look, kiddo! I don’t have time for this! Give me back my stuff now!” she said.

“I didn’t steal it! You tossed it anyway; I just picked it up! Finder’s keepers!”

“Because you pushed me on purpose, you thieving little - !”

“Did someone say _thief_?” 

Both girls paused, the halfling’s legs suddenly limp and dangling. Two human Flaming Fist mercenaries, a man and a woman, approached them, steel greaves clanking on the cobblestones.

Suddenly, the halfling began to tremble. "Oh no! The Fist!” she whispered, frightened.

Irse loosened her hold and let the halfling stand on her own, keeping one hand firmly gripped on the little girl’s collar. However, small fingers grasped at the elf’s waist, tiny desperate anchors. A quick glance at the halfling’s face and Irse saw terror in the childlike eyes. 

The elf sighed and made a decision.

“What’s going on here with you two?” the female guard snapped.

“Nothing… nothing, ma'am. We’re just… playing a game.”

“Aww yeah? What kind o’ game?” the male guard drawled.

The elf blinked. “Uh… _Fists and Thieves_?”

The two guards exchanged looks. “I’ll wager a guess,” the woman said as she pointed at the elf. “ _You’re_ the Fist and the halfling’s the thief?”

“Oh? Oh, yes! Yes! That's right. Look! I even got my own pretend sword!” Irse answered brightly, pulling the bokken out of her pack. The halfling’s eyes widened at the sight of the carved weapon.

“Just like what you folks get – what do you call it? _Standard issue_!” the elf added, a little too eagerly, recalling the Watchers talking about their gear. The two Fist guards cast an appraising eye at the “toy weapon”.

“Not bad. But don’t be showing that to the Grand Dukes or they might get ideas for what’s _standard issue_!” the woman remarked dryly, eyes rolling.

“Yeah. Always tellin’ us they be pinchin’ pennies now. How ‘bout the Lady Duke herself go pinch my arse an’ call it a _pay_!” the man said. Both guards guffawed while elf and halfling each contributed a forced chuckle.

“Say… aren’t you _too old_ to be playing games, _elf_?” the female mercenary suddenly asked, eyes narrowing.

Irse stiffened. “What do you mean, ma’am?”

Instead, the second guard answered, “Naaww, you know, you elves always be lookin’ like fresh sprouts in our eyes; but _you_ \- ehh, we can tell you’re really a three-hundred year-old gran’ma!”

“ _Me?! A G- Grandma?!”_ the elf stammered incredulously. Beside her, the halfling sniggered.

The first guard waved a dismissive hand. “Well, well, whatever makes your kind feel young again. Just play quietly and stay out of trouble!” 

The second guard gave her a mock salute and the two resumed their patrols. The elf glared with narrowed eyes at the back of the helmed heads.

“Hey!”

Irse turned around and caught the sack thrown at her. Hurriedly, she untied the string and checked the contents – all four still intact. She exhaled with relief.

The halfling rubbed her nose as she stepped up closer. “I didn’t look in yet. What you got there anyways you’d want it back so badly?”

The elf let her peek into the sack to see the meteorites.

“Sheesh! Just a bunch of dumb ugly rocks?”

Irse opened her mouth to correct the little girl but decided otherwise.

“Yes, rocks.”

“Oh! So magical elf rocks! Do they go boom? Maybe glow like a lamp? Or how ‘bout they take you places – whaddya call it? Terpol-? Terpolltashun—”

“Teleportation. No, they don’t do any of those things.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. They're just ordinary rocks.” Well, not entirely untrue. Perhaps among the whole bunch of meteorites in space up there, these one’s were the most ordinary, got bored from floating around the spheres and decided to sneak out of the quiet and vast grandness of the stars and into the loud, cramped, and grimy world that is Toril. _Story of her life_.

"You mean you went through all that trouble just to get back a bunch of rocks?"

Irse shot her a smug look. "No, _you_ went through all that trouble just to steal a bunch of rocks." 

_Never mind the desperate chase, the unhelpful people, the wagon climb, the roof walking, and the fly crossing that could've been a fall and a broken neck._

Annoyed, the halfling girl pouted, crossed her arms and looked away. Curiosity, however, eventually overrode all offenses taken for no more than a second had passed when the girl sidled up to her.

“ _Soooo_ … what you gonna do with ‘em anyways?”

“I don’t know.” _Truth_. Irse picked out one and gazed at it solemnly. “It's a me-, I mean, a nice ordinary rock. Maybe give it for a present to someone important to me?"

"Like who? Your _boooyfriend_? Who's the lucky  _grandpa_?"

The elf nearly dropped the meteorite. "What? Ew, no! Gross! How could you even think that? You're only what -eight years old? Ten?"

The pink-haired girl stuck out her tongue in triumph. “Ha ha! Wrongsies! I just turned eighteen this spring! That how you elf grannies see all the not-old folks? Like big walking babies?"

Irse jokingly aimed the meteorite at the girl who flinched but giggled. The elf ranted, "I. Am. Not. A. Grandma! I'm even younger than you! I'm only fift- "

A loud gurgling noise suddenly cut the air between them. The halfling jumped and exclaimed, “Tymora’s toes! What _is_ that? Sounds like a giant king toad ate a hive of gassy swamp bees then fell right into our sink plumbin'!"

Irse grinned sheepishly and rubbed her tummy. “ _Thaaat_ would be my resident stomach. I’d buy myself something but I got robbed earlier too.”

“Aaaww! That’s terrible!” the little girl exclaimed in genuine sympathy. She grabbed the elf by the hand. “Well, come on now! Let’s get you somethin’ to eat! Mama wouldn’t let anyone go a day without a bite, and I shouldn’t too. I knows a place cheap but tasty here in the Lower City!”

Before Irse could object, she found herself being pulled headlong through the crowds.

"What's your name, elfie?" the halfling yelled over her shoulders.

"Me? Irse. You?"

"Keep up, Irse! Unless your rocks can do the teleportie thingie!" the girl answered back, her eager little legs scampering excitedly. Meanwhile the elf half-ran, half-stumbled, unable to pry herself from the tiny iron grip on her hand.

"But I got to get to the East Docks! Someone's waiting for me there!"

"Don't worry! Just a quick bite and I'm takin' you there myself!"

Soon they arrived at a street that had more food stands than the others. Her mouth and eyes watered at the thick gamey smoke from different roasting meats mingling with the garlicky aroma of those frying on pans. They passed by one kiosk, close enough for her keen nose to catch the crisp scent of freshly sliced fruits on clotted cream while the next one embraced her with the buttery sweetness of freshly baked rolls. The elf briefly closed her eyes. _The smell of the kitchens at the Keep. Home_.

“This is the place I was tellin’ you!”

It was a stall selling meat buns, so it said on a painted wooden sign.  _Bartha's Meat Buns._ Customers picked their choice of greasy deep-fried buns from the pile on the counter and handed their coins to the hawker, a middle-aged woman with a squashed nose and jowly cheeks.

“Heya, Missus B.!”

“ _Alora!_ Ya li’l punk! Where’d ya get yer grubby paws into now?” Bartha hollered.

“Nowhere, Missus B.! See, my paws're clean today! You’re not tellin’ Mama anything this time!” the halfling girl chirped as she proudly held up both hands. “Could me an’ my pal have a couple?”

“So you can run off like a thievin’ li’l mouse without payin’ again? Hah!”

Alora quickly pushed Irse in front of her. “Of course not! I’m with an elf here. An’ you know elves are honest an’ honorable, right? And rich from havin' so many magical thingies!”

“I don’t have any money, remember?” Irse hissed through half-open lips.

“ _Sssh!_ Just play along!”

“Ah, yes, Madam Bartha!” _Gods, this isn’t going to work_. “By my honor as the Lady, eh, Flower... _Flowermoon_! Yes! My name is Lady Flowermoon!” 

Irse heard a tiny smack, Alora facepalming behind her for sure.

“As I said, no, _swear,_ ” the elf continued, a haughty finger raised to go with the feigned, high-pitched pompousness. “By my honor as the honest and honorable, and wealthy Lady Flowermoon, we shall surely compensate you handsomely in exchange for these delicacies. For you see, I, uh, travelled far from my _very_ _elven homeland_ in search of the most delicious meat bun in all of the realms. And now our kind little _friend_ here..." Irse said with gritted teeth while roughly mousing Alora's hair. The halfling yelped and glared in return.

"... has boasted that yours is the finest in this city. Perhaps you would permit us a sample to test her claims?"

Irse looked down at the halfling and grinned, eyebrows raised expectantly for approval. It does pay to bury one’s nose in epic tales instead of boring philosophy treatises. Alora shot her an unimpressed look.

Bartha rubbed one jowl as she eyed the elf from head to toe. "Hmmm... ne'er had an elf talk to me before. Just as foppish as I thought yer kind would be," the woman said. "Fine! Ye can have one each!"

Alora gleefully swiped six buns from the counter and handed three of them to the elf.

"Oi! I said two! Now that'll be thirty coppers total!"

Alora wagged a finger. "Wait, Missus B.! If the Lady Floppieboon -"

"Flowermoon, I think," Irse corrected in a whisper.

"... Flummerwoon likes it, then she'll give you, er, thirty gold pieces instead of coppers!"

The hawker's eyes gleamed at the mention of gold. Her jowls shook, mouth about to say something when she was interrupted by knocking at the other end of the counter. A handful of impatient and hungry customers had already gathered. The woman grunted and waved at them before turning again to the two girls.

"Ye two an' yer gold stay right there!" she barked at them before hauling herself off the stool to waddle over to the waiting buyers.

"Don’t worry ‘bout it, Mama keeps a tab for me with Missus B. Okay, what're you waiting for? Dig in! Oh, you already did!" Alora’s eyes widened at seeing two of the buns gone and the third one already halfway into the elf’s mouth. As soon as the last piece was fully devoured, she quickly offered one of hers to Irse who took the bun with thanks and wasted no time tearing through it as well.

“Golly, you’re really hungry aren’t you?”

“You’ve no idea. I had fish stew that some man was selling at the docks; taste didn’t even register with my tongue.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, they say he gets his broth water from under the piers. The fishbits as well, that’s why it’s so cheap.”

Irse suddenly paled, wanting to hurl, but still she took the last bite and swallowed just the same. Wouldn’t do to waste food especially when it’s free. Something scratched at her inner cheek and she picked it out with a finger.

“They were really nice but… ugh. Pig bristle.” Though it was _suspiciously_ long for pig bristle. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” she begged, wagging the whisker-like piece.

“Relax, it ain’t rat. Well, this time.”

_Good to hear. Wait, what did she meant by “this time”?_

“Rabbit?” _Please, be rabbit. Please, be rabbit._

“We sure ain’t in a cabbage patch are we? Naw, it’s just cat.”

“Oh.” Cat. _Cat!_

“ _This is cat meat?_ ” Irse screamed. Bartha and the customers whirled around and stared at them. One of the men eating suddenly looked ill.

“Whaddya yappin’ on there elf? Ya really one o’ those damned health inspectors, aren’t ya! I paid yer boss good coin fer this year’s permit!” Bartha yelled as she waddled back to their side of the counter, wielding a smoking rusty frying pan still dripping with recently used days-old grease.

Alora grabbed Irse by the hand and tugged. “Uh-oh! She’s mad again! We gotta’ bail! Now!”

The pair hightailed it out of the street, diving into the crowds, Irse following the halfling as she wiped at her mouth with her sleeve. Soon enough, they were within the familiar sight of unfurled sails and gulls soaring low. They stopped to catch their breath, laughing in between gasps for air.

“You know, I feel bad for Bartha. I don’t want her to close shop, it’s her living after all, but she ought to find something better to put in those buns.”

“Naw, don’t worry ‘bout Missus B. Folks always say that of her buns, but we all come back for more anyways,” Alora assured her. “An’ besides, maybe it really ain’t kitty meat. Maybe the alley cats just got into the pork and lost a whisker there.”

“But… that’s just as bad,” Irse said, scowling as she remembered the strict rules on cleanliness that governed the Keep’s kitchens. She looked at the river ships still docked at the pier. “I need to go now. Thanks for the bite and for bringing me here.”

Alora beamed and rubbed her nose. “And thanks for not turning me in! ‘Wish I could take you to my place instead but with that stomach of yours, I doubt Mama would ever let you leave.”

The two exchanged goodbyes and high-fives. Irse watched the halfling walk away, briefly seeing a vision of the girl she left behind at Candlekeep, younger but just as cheerful and sprightly. She smiled and turned around to look for Shar-Teel’s boat.

Except, she couldn’t remember the ship’s name, which she couldn’t even read in the first place. Ah well, she could just ask around.

The bell tolled, and the elf counted three peals and panicked. _They’re about to leave_! But which of the many ships – and some already disengaging from the pier – was it? She hugged both pack and sack of meteorites and blazed down the walkway. One ship had its plank being pulled back. It must be them!

“Stop! Wait for me!”

The plank paused and the elf leaped at it, crossed the length in one bound, and she was in the boat. Her Teacher and the Captain stood at the deck, their backs turned to her while gazing at the horizon.

“Gods! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I got lost and robbed and everything! I promise I won’t be late again!” Irse pleaded while wheezing, genuinely contrite and ashamed.

The blacksmith and captain turned around.

“Wait, you’re not ---” Irse gasped.

The two men, one with slightly wavy raven hair like Okami’s and another with broomlike sandy blonde as Shar-Teel’s, merely shook their heads.

“Captain Shar-Teel?”

Their expressions changed from blank surprise to obvious dislike. “Third one to my right,” one of the men said, pointing at the other boat. A quick and embarrassed thanks, and the elf quickly ran down the plank, heading straight for Shar-Teel’s boat.

Fortunately, they were still docked and Nells had just alighted from the ship. The woman smiled good-naturedly. “Here you are! Your master’s out there looking for you. Good thing too, Dotie’s not here yet; we can wait a while.”

Relief was immediately replaced with dread. Her Teacher out there - _alone, among_ _heartless thieves, a scourge of rats, and unsanitary cat meat!_

Without another thought, Irse blurted, “I’ll go look for him! _I’ll bring him back_! Sorry for the trouble but could you wait for us, please?”

Nells nodded, seemingly puzzled. Irse whirled around and Okami was already there, a parcel in one hand. Her heart nearly burst with relief at the sight of her Teacher.

Nonchalantly, Okami scratched the thin beard on his chin. “I enquired around in the Lower City as to your whereabouts. Fortunately, I have not come far when one of the sellers remembered seeing a flame-haired elf running towards the direction of the East Docks. Strangely though, this _fox_ was following a _pink-haired mouse_ ,” he said, a questioning brow raised at her.

Irse grinned cheekily. The parcel was handed to her and she looked at him curiously.

“Consider these as reparations for my poor choice of a meal for us, earlier today.”

Gingerly, she unwrapped it. _Please don't be the Mystery Meat Bun... please don't be the Mystery Meat Bun,_ Irse chanted silently though in all honesty, she knew she would still eat them anyway.

 _Butter rolls!_ With pure joy she closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma, practically shoving her nose into them. Okami walked past her without another word. The elf quickly re-wrapped the bread and put them in her pack.

Irse cast one last look at the Gate, then turned around to follow him into the ship.

 

 


	7. Riverbed (Book One : From the Earth)

Gentle Reader, may your sailing days be one of clearest skies and calmest waters. ^_^

 

* * *

 

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 7 : Riverbed**

 

* * *

 

"Just what we need t’ round up the rest of the crew... a stinkin' leaf-muncher an’ a sappy-faced noodle-slurper!" the dwarven woman, Dotie, jeered. Gingery braids and a bulbous nose, a fuzzy chin with a few fresh nicks, yet with a pale and grayish cast to her skin unlike the more commonly fair or tanned stout folk. Barrel-chested like the males of her kind, Dotie puffed herself up as she eyeballed the newcomers standing on the deck.

"Better than a bottom keg- kisser," Irse mumbled, eyes averted to the side.

"What's that? Got somethin' to say to my face, _elf_?"

Irse shook her head, lips quirked. Dotie turned to Shar-Teel who was idly manning the helm.

"Ya should've bought a damned goat instead! More useful than these soddin' lubbers!"

The captain grunted, "Yeah, I was, Dotie. 'Was going to. But then I remembered we already got a crewmate with a _beard_."

Shar-Teel then trained her eye lazily at the female dwarf. 

"Except _you shaved_ again yesterday."

Irse snorted a giggle then clapped a hand on her mouth. Dotie rounded on her with a menacing glare before stomping over to Shar-Teel. As captain and crewmate commenced with what sounded like yesterday’s unfinished argument, Irse felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Okami, beckoning her with a slight tilt of his head to follow him down to the cargo hold. They descended a short flight of steps and found Nells waiting for them below. The first mate sighed and rolled her eyes towards the main deck, seemingly grateful that the ceiling had enough thickness to muffle the wave of colorful curses now streaming above their heads.

"You'll have to excuse Dotie... and the Captain... and well, everybody else had they been here," Nells apologized. She briefed the two on their duties with Okami assigned to the heavier tasks such as working with the rest of the crew on the rigging, steering, and repairs on account of his skills as a smith. Meanwhile, the girl was relegated mostly to cleaning duties or anything else requiring a light hand.

“But I can do more,” Irse insisted, adamant that she not appear a burden or worse, a slacker.

“I know that, dear. But there’s a lot of cleaning and maintenance left undone what with fewer of us to divvy up the work now.” The captain never really cared much for a spotless vessel, the first mate assured the girl, but it was better they weren’t at least sailing on a floating pigsty.

"Not that everything ought to be clean and gleaming like the Ducal Palace, only that none us gets a nasty infection and end up with a fever or losing a hand or leg every time we get scratched by a wall or the bannisters," Nells admitted with some embarrassment as she walked up to a section of the inner hull where a patch of slime had settled contentedly. The woman rapped her knuckle next to the brownish-greenish gunk; the elf imagined for a moment the slime wriggling and waving at them in welcome. 

"This one might've been a spot of gravy from a turkey dinner we had last midwinter feast... ehh, days ago."

Ire's eyes widened. It was already Mirtul. Midwinter was months ago.

Okami leaned close to his apprentice and whispered a warning, "Do not let your bare skin make contact with any surface. I may not have enough _san qi_ for both of us."

"But isn't that for bleeding?"

"Yes, in case we must amputate more than one gangrenous appendage."

Realizing that the first mate was still in their presence, the pair straightened up, master coughing and student twiddling her thumbs.

Surprisingly, Nells didn’t seem the least bit insulted. “Eh, now would be the time to tell you we only have enough bandages and salves onboard for minor scrapes. Last season hasn’t been good to us, but Shar-Teel promised us a…,” Nells drifted off, frowned and looked to the side. “… A well-paying contract… this trip. We can at least afford a healing potion or two. You know, just in case,” she recovered with a forced smile.

They were shown their quarters, a cramped bare room with two hammocks. Clothes had been carelessly piled into one, some pieces dangling upon the ropes. Irse tentatively pulled down two shirts and spread them out – the first evidently belonging once to a large man, the other clearly a child’s.

“I guess this was Beno’s? Oh, and you had a kid with you here?” she asked absently.

“Risa’s, actually. A half-orc. The smaller one is Lolla’s, a gnome.”

The elf blinked. _Risa, the hopelessly romantic lovestruck half-orc, and Lolla, the excessively manwhore-mongering gnome_. Silently she thanked the gods for blessing the crew with at least one sane member.

They returned to the deck where Nells gave them a few more instructions and left the two to themselves. Okami found a bucket and a mop and handed them to his student.

“To our tasks then, sailor,” he said.

She stood smartly and gave him a mock salute. “Aye, aye…,” she cheered, following with a cautious peek at Shar-Teel who was looking elsewhere, then grinned at her Teacher and whispered.

“… Captain.”

 

* * *

 

Back and forth the mop swished across the floor, punctuated by the slosh of the head dunking into the bucket of water. Humming a wordless tune, she thought back on her former chores at the Keep. _A calculated risk_ , she had overheard Gorion and Tethoril confer among themselves, to keep the girl busy, distracted from causing trouble, and out of Ulraunt’s hair. Most importantly, _supervised_. Fortunately for her, the laborers weren’t keen on babysitting, trusting enough to delegate the tasks to the elven child. An arrangement she much preferred over the Master of Tome’s initial command that she be under the constant watch of any of his own lackeys – detesting the idea of being scrutinized, bossed and ordered around like a mindless golem, smothered with comparisons to a race and culture she had never lived with.

She paused, mop in her hand, eyes smiling at the trees and brushes along the riverbank passing them by. Out here where there were no walls, she was a nobody and out of everyone’s sights, free to make her own choices. No illusions were harbored from the start – she was too young to be a swashbuckling hero scouring dungeons and defeating dragons. She dreamed about it like any child, but such a life wasn’t always for everyone. Right now, it would be to find her parents, return to the monastery if they’re no longer among the living, live, be happy, and be whatever she might be. _Whatever that may be_.

“Quit yer gawkin’, knife-ear! Or are ya missin’ yer trees over there? Just ask nicely an’ I’ll oblige with a, heh heh, _friendly_ hand.”

Footsteps approached her from behind, the stomping on the wooden planks heavy and deliberate. How high could the dwarf possibly lift those stubby legs to make that much sound? She exhaled deeply and dunked the mophead into the bucket, churning the water within.

“What do you want, Dotie?”

“Ye best be callin’ yer betters a _ma’am_ , ya woody worm.”

“We’re passengers, _paying passengers_. Only that Nells was generous enough to give us something to do to pass time.”

“I don’t give a fishies’ arse what that _half-er_ says. Too soft in the guts, that’s what she is.”

_Half-er?_

“Oh, an’ ye be missin’ a spot,” Dotie mocked.

“Hmmm? Where?” the elf asked just to humor her.

The dwarf shoved a finger up her bulging nose, twirling it deeply as physically possible, then pulled it out and flicked a boogie in front of her. “Right… _here_.”

A swish of the mop head and the deed was done. Dotie picked her nose again and flicked a second one on the floor. This time the projectile was sizable enough for the girl to see.

“Another one, elf. Don’t get sloppy now!”

Irse leaned on the mop, raising an indifferent brow at the floor. “I’ll clean up when you’re finished. Let me know when you’re done.”

“Oh, I can do this _all day_!”

“ ‘Course you can, but seeing you don’t have much of a nose but a whole lot of finger going up _there_ , you'll soon run out of brains to pick out. Or you don't have one and it's really ear wax you're scraping through your nose all this time.”

“Ah! So ya got a mouth there on ya! Now yer pushin’ fer it, oozebait!” Dotie raged and advanced at the girl. Irse stepped back, mop pulled out of the bucket and now firmly gripped in both hands.

“Dotie! _Dotiedotiedotie_!” a welcome voice piped up in a strained singsong. Nells poked hear head through the door to the cargo hold. Smiling as if nothing was amiss, the first mate walked up to them, awkwardly bending at the waist to place a friendly hand down on the dwarf’s shoulder.

“I've been looking for you! I need you to do inventory while Okami moves those crates in the cargo hold."

The dwarf glowered in frustration at the elf before turning to the other woman. "What? Limp noodle can't handle it by himself?"

Nells handed her a list. "He can, but it’s much faster and efficient if you work together."

Muttering curses under her breath, Dotie yanked the parchment from the first mate’s hand and tramped over to the door. As soon as the dwarf was gone, Nells shot the girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Try not to pay too much mind to Dotie. She’s part gray dwarf, just can’t seem to get along with anyone seeing as how we’re all _surfacers_ here,” Nells chuckled nervously, then became solemn in expression. “Though sometimes I wonder what’s truly responsible for that - the duergar in her blood or what others expected of her before they even know her.”

 _A duergar_. No wonder, given the gray pallor of her skin and obvious hostility. Irse realized that Nells was looking at her, a worried frown on her face. The girl knew what the woman was looking at.

“It’s an old injury. Don’t worry, Dotie can’t jump that high for sure,” Irse said as she rubbed her left ear.

“Seems like it. Didn’t want to pry before; I’m sure you have your reasons and Mister Okami’s a good man, but aren’t you _too young_ to be traveling on your own and away from your fellow _Tel’Quessir_?”

The girl’s eyes brightened and she pumped a fist in the air. “Thank you! Gods! Thank you! Somebody finally gets me!”

Nells stared at her, baffled for a moment. Irse grinned awkwardly and told the other woman of her journey so far. The first mate listened quietly, the kind smile never leaving her face. When the elf was done with her story, Nells reached up a hand and pulled at the knots of her bandanna, shaking her auburn waves and pulling them away from her ears which had always been hidden out of sight. Ears broad like a human’s but with the unmistakable yet slightly pointed tip.

“You’re a half-elf!” the girl exclaimed. No wonder Dotie had derisively called Nells a half-er, and that she had used the same word the elven merchants had called themselves. The _Tel’Quessir_ \- as if Ilphas was making sure that it was the first elven word that Irse must learn from them; _she_ \- the poor unfortunate elven child raised by _N’Tel’Quess_ or non-elves, those _Not of The People_.

“That I am. Though it’s my father who’s the half-elf. You could say I’m a quarter-elf, but to the world I’ll always be a half of both races. And depending on which side you ask, I could be a tenth of one and they’d still say I have too much of the other.”

Irse nodded in agreement. Of the few occasions that elven and half-elven visitors were at the Great Library at the same time, and the girl strictly told to stay out of their sight, she and Imoen would sit at the inn’s kitchens listening to Winthrop relay in his own and more colorful way, the barbs that both sides would not-so-secretly hurl at each other.

“Don’t have much of a story myself. Only that my mother died from a lingering illness years ago and my father lives now in Elventree, where those like us are more accepted by The People. When I’ve saved a good sum and I can be sure that Shar-Teel won’t accidentally set the boat on fire when on her own, then I’ll make the visit and maybe settle down there myself.”

 _Elventree._ “How far is that from us?” the girl asked, a mix of curiosity and hope.

“A good long way from here, a thousand miles to the east, roughly. The settlement’s in the great forest of Cormanthor. From Iriaebor you could take many routes. A straightforward one’s to go to Westgate, sail from the port to Sembia, then it’s one road to get there. But I’d advise against that. Westgate’s not a pretty place to be in even for a day, _even during the day_. Another is to pass through the Storm Horns, as dangerous as any mountains with monsters can be, but at least it’s guarded by Cormyr, then through the High Moor and the Dalelands until you take to either Shadowdale to bypass most of the woods or Ashabenford after which you cut through the great forest itself ‘til you reach Elventree by the Moonsea.”

Hearing the routes described by Nells already made her legs ache by themselves. At least that wasn’t a journey to be undertaken in the near future.

For now, there was only the river stretching on ahead of them.

 

* * *

 

"What's this I hear 'bout you livin’ in that big old library and runnin’ away?" the captain asked, uncrossing her arms and leaning over the railings.

Nells must have mentioned it to her. Irse slid the rag continuously across the wood and replied, “It’s true, Captain. I left my foster father when -”

“So you got a foster dad. He beat you up, didn’t he? That’s why you ran away.”

Rather than getting riled, Irse smiled to herself. Her foster father, though advanced in years, remained hale, straight-backed. Always they whispered in awe of how he was a former Harper agent who had gone on dangerous missions before retiring at the Keep. Yet Gorion was a serious and thoughtful man, longsuffering of her antics, gentle in his words. He would never hurt her.

“No, Gorion’s been good to me but he wouldn’t tell me a thing about my parents. I only want to find them.”

“Gorion, huh? What about your folks? You at least have their names to go by?”

The rag stopped. “Only my mother’s name.” _Alianna_. But never from Gorion’s lips, only from a dream that didn’t feel like a dream. More like an _old memory_. Were she to close her eyes now she would see and hear it all again - darkness above and around, the glow of flames, Gorion screaming the name.  It had been the look on his face when she asked that told her all she needed to know.

"What about your mother? Or _father_ , Captain? Does he also sail boats? What's his name?"

_Thwack!_

With a meaty palm, Shar-Teel had smacked Irse at the back of the head and jabbed a finger at the girl’s face.

"Hey! We're not on a _daddy's name basis_ here!" the woman snapped, eyes smoking with twice the usual murder in the mornings.

Irse rubbed the sore spot, amazed that her head hadn't flown clear off her neck and skipping on the water's surface like a thrown pebble. "But I just wanted to talk ab-,"

"I'm not paying you to yammer and flap your gabs on my boat!"

"But you _are_ not paying us..." the elf complained, eyes rolling to the side.

“And I’d say I got the short end of the sardin’ stick too!” Shar-Teel stepped away from the railings and turned her back on the girl. “ _Psh_! My advice is you forget about it, kid. Go do whatever you want; think yourself lucky you don’t know who your folks are – especially your _old man_. You don’t need them looking over your shoulder, telling you who you’re supposed to be, and making your choices for you like it’s not even your own damned life!” she said as she walked away, a hard edge to her voice.

Irse opened her mouth, about to say something, anything to defend her choice.

But then, it was wiser to keep her head sitting on her shoulders.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not really going to make this easy for me, are you?”

The spot on the wooden floor of the cargo hold did not reply, smug in its entrenchment among the greaves of the planks. No matter how many times she rubbed the mop head upon it, the blemish - crusted remains of something _hopefully not from Dotie_ , simply refused to budge. Not for the first time did she wonder if she could instead beat it with the handle but this wasn’t a rug. With a groan, she got down on both knees and whipped out a rag. Maybe a knife would be handy, in case it jumps at her.

Rolling the rag to make it sturdy enough, she proceeded to scrub at the spot, her grumbling and swearing outdoing the vigor with which she attacked it. From the edge of her vision, she saw Okami coming down the steps.

“There must be a gentler means, lest you eventually rub a hole into the hull and we find ourselves at the bottom of the Chionthar.”

“If that’s the only way to clean this whole floating castle of crud!” she ranted through gritted teeth.

“ _Will you set fire to the entire garden merely to clear the fallen leaves?_ ”

Seeing the affirmative grin on her face, he added, “Never mind. Do not answer. I was hoping you might have time but you seem preoccupied.”

Irse got up on her feet and tossed the rag. “Just keeping myself busy, Teacher. But if you need me to do anything, I’m ready.”

Okami looked around the interior of the hold. All of the crates, of which there weren’t much, had been moved to one corner, creating a single wide space. He walked towards the center, student following suite.

“This is nothing like the practice halls of my home but we must make do with what the gods have given us.”

The elf puffed her cheeks as she made a quick inspection of the place, and cast a defeated look at the uncleaned grub, still unscathed. Nice to know which god would have been responsible for putting them here. The blacksmith seemed to be thinking the same thing. He eyed the same spot on the floor with resignation.

“Preferable we do this barefoot as is customary, but I rather we survive this trip with our feet healthy and intact.”

And so they started their lesson on footwork, an explanation on the importance of maintaining stability as with the beginning positions, then a simple matter of sliding one’s feet to move in different directions when starting from the basic stance he had taught her. Except…

“Let your forefoot glide to the position, then follow with your back foot in the same manner.”

“I’m letting! I’m letting!”

“No, you are _stomping_ , then sliding.”

“Now, you are skipping.”

“But it’s so much more epic! I’ll hop and chop and go _haiyaaa!_ ”

“Again.”

“Glide, like the raindrop on a blade of grass. No, that is a frog jumping from a lotus pad.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

"And, again,"

"Still, again."

"Again."

Even when she was merely at the verge of moving, she was told – _again_. Her Teacher maintained his cool, but somehow the unflappable calmness in his voice was beginning to grate on her nerves.

“Why can’t I just _not and say I did_? What difference would it make if I can’t do it perfectly as long as I’m getting somewhere anyway?” Irse protested.

His brow furrowed, Okami raised a palm, a signal for her to cease her attempts. She scowled back, defiant. If he was going to say it is because it’s the way it has always been, that she lacked the grace that should’ve been inherent to her race, if he was no different from those before him who relished the disappointment, then so help her!

“It matters… not because I aspire for you to be perfect,” he said as he walked over to her, stopping only when he could stare into her eyes.

“It matters because I _want_ you to _live_!”

His eyes were hard and grave. She blinked, and his expression softened.

“Why is it imperative that you uphold your balance, to not interrupt yourself, be constant in moving between positions?”

She did not answer.

“So that you are at all times ready to strike – when you _need_ to, and not only when you _want_ to.”

Irse turned her head to look away, controlling the frustration in her own voice as she responded, “I want to do this right, I truly do. I’ll just try again.” She heard him sigh and felt the air lighten between them as he stepped back.

“You will try again, good. As uttered by the man who once made me clean the entire practice hall, rafter to floor, as punishment and lesson for the same obstacle - _Desire points to the door, but it is the will which opens the way_. Now then, let us see what we can do about this.”

With his foot, he flipped the rag over to her feet. “The ball of your right foot over the cloth. Now, push with your foot to gently slide it forward, do not lift until you stop.”

When she executed the move and saw him nod in satisfaction, she fought the urge to leap and punch the air in triumph. _Keep your foot on the rag, dummy, don’t ruin this_. “Oh! I forgot!” She quipped as she slid her left foot to its follow-through position.

“Use the rag to practice the other directions until you are confident of executing them on your own and on any surface. When you are ready, meet me on deck each night when I am on watch. Bring your bokken,” Okami said as he ascended the stairs.

As soon as her Teacher disappeared from view, the elf stomped on the rag and smirked down at it. _We have work to do, you and I._

Forwards, sideways, backwards, forwards then pivot, feet interchanging but never leaving the rag untouched – Irse weaved through the empty space, the silence interrupted only by the occasional tap of the shoe, a weighted step, her breathing. And low laughter. Daggers and swords, imagined from the darkness, rushed at her and in her mind she dodged them all without a hitch, phantom sword in her empty hand cutting, slicing, winning. Did she swing correctly? Maybe yes, maybe no _._ As long as she was hitting anything – just like she needed to.

 _Enemies to the northwest charging at her! Does she wait or meet them in the battlefield?_ Right foot sliding to close with her left at the fore, then the left using the boost to propel her forwards, switching the blade between hands, a swinging arc from her right shoulder –

“By Marthammor Duin’s mossy-mucked boots! What kinda’ fool foppery be goin’ on here!”

Battle skidded to a stop. Dotie stood by the steps, a bundle of rope in her arms.

“I’m cleaning the floors.” Dwarven eyes narrowed in suspicion at her. “The elven way?”

“Hmph! As long as I be not mashin’ my face on where yer tippy-toes be soilin’,” Dotie maundered as she walked past the elf and stashed the rope among the crates.

“Say, Dotie.”

“What!”

Irse tapped at the boxes. “We couldn’t get passage in some of the ships because they were full of cargo. If it’s summer and high season for trading, why are we sailing near empty with a barebones crew? Are we docking somewhere else to get the goods?”

Thick fingers reached up and grabbed at the front of her shirt. Dotie yanked at her with such force, Irse’s knees buckled, almost falling to the floor had she not braced herself at the edge of the crate beside her. The dwarf thrust her face into the elf’s, breath hot with rage.

“Ya listen here an’ listen good. Ye best be stayin’ yer nose outta’ our business if ye want yerself an’ him t’ keep breathin’! Got it?”

The dwarven woman shoved at the girl; Irse staggered, back slamming against the crates behind her, barely managing to keep on her feet. More surprised than angry, the elf stared at the other who merely sneered.

Dotie warned with cruel relish, “What ya gonna’ do? Whine t’ that mongrel? Tell on me to the captain? Don’t ye forget, girl – I know every nook an’ cranny in this ship an’ I can see in the dark just like ya.”

Cold eyes glinted. “But _he_ can’t.”

 _That was it!_ Her fists clenched, the mix of chagrin and outrage roiling within. But what was there to do? _Charge at her? Who was this one to threaten her, her Teacher, when she had done nothing to her?_

Irse sized up the woman before her. Maybe in weight and hardiness she was outmatched, but she was taller, lighter and faster, had longer reach. If she could be as quick as she knew she could be…

_What would that accomplish, Child?_

Gorion’s voice trailed in her mind.

_A remembered feel of his gnarled palm enclosing her curled fist, then small yet trembling with fury._

_“The kids at the village, they made Imoen cry ‘cause she has no parents like me. I don’t want to see her cry. I'll make them pay, hurt them all-“_

_“But I ask you again, Child. What would that accomplish?”_

She had no answer then. She had none now.

“How ‘bout ye run off to yer master like the trained wee bitch that ye are?” Dotie jeered.

With a deep breath the elf ignored the jibe, straightened herself and smoothed her tunic. Without another glance at the dwarf, she gathered her things, forcing her hands to remain steady, and climbed the stairs to the deck.

 


	8. Aground (Book One : From the Earth)

Dearest Readers, may your sailing days through the realms be always of tranquil waters. :)

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 8 : Aground**

* * *

 

 

For such a confined space, it seemed there were no end of things to do in a boat. If she wasn't scrubbing an unending pile of pots and bowls in the galley –  _so many for so few people_ , wiping the railings, mopping the deck, helping her teacher with coiling the lines, leaning over the bow to watch out for any floating debris in their path, checking the water barrels if they were leaking… then she was checking them again.

At least, she was never ordered to inspect the bilges for leaks – the unsavory chore of crawling through the cramped space filled with filthy and slimy collected water was reserved for Dotie. Each time the dwarf went down there, Irse spent as less time as possible in the cargo hold, imagining the other woman making good with her threat by thrusting any of the kitchen's rusty knives and cleavers through the planks to get to her.

"I let you off last time; you ought to give me a warning in return," the elf solemnly reminded the un-scraped crud on the floor. She took its silence as a yes.

By a happy chance, the winds were favorable and working with the sails to nudge them along albeit leisurely. Somehow haste seemed to be the last thing on the captain's mind. Not once were they ordered to bring out the oars. One complaint from Dotie that her legs were cramping, and they would find themselves aground for an hour.

Likewise at night they put in to shore, commencing their journey well after the sun had risen. If Okami was impatient about the delays, he did not show – simply far more attentive to the tasks at hand during the day and to their lessons at night. Nells, on the other hand, was something else. For each stop, she appeared the one most relieved among them yet visibly fretting when Shar-Teel seemed inclined to keep them grounded for longer.

Only one time did Nells suggest they use the oars but Shar-Teel's sole response was to storm off the deck and into the quarters she shared with the first mate. What followed was an argument behind closed doors, only bits and pieces Irse had managed to grasp that afternoon as she passed by.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, but you know too well the consequences!" It was Nells, her voice raised to an uncharacteristic pitch.

"Oh ho! Coming from the  _dear friend_  who threatened to walk away when I did all that I could to get us out of the hell hole!"

"And still I  _didn't_. Because  _I am_  your friend, and I care what happens to you!"

The door to the cabin flew open, hinges squealing in protest. Shar-Teel hadn't bothered to answer back, marching towards the deck and into the galley perhaps for a stiff drink, wrath blinding her to the elf straining to flatten herself against the wall.

"Patience, patience. It'll be over soon. The gods forgive us."

A prayer uttered thinking no one else was around to hear and the door closed once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Irse leaned over the railings by the bow, sounding line in her hands. Her Teacher stood beside her.

"Keep lowering the rope until the plummet dips into the water and touches the bottom. The plummet will not float as it is made of lead," Okami instructed. As she did, the line went deeper until the surface of the water reached the third mark on the rope. "It means that this part of the river is about three fathoms deep. Now you know how to measure the depth of the water."

She began pulling the line back to her, allowing the rest of the rope to remain slack upon the deck. Okami had warned her not to coil the rope in her arms lest the plummet get snagged into anything below and drag her down with it.  _Another day's work at the boat._

As her Teacher walked away to check on something else, Nells approached the girl, the usual friendly smile on her face.

"How are you doing?"

"Learning much," Irse replied with an eager grin. "Though, can I ask you something? About this boat?"

For the briefest of moments, a hint of apprehension flashed in the half-elf's eyes.

"I mean, we've been sailing for a while now and… I don't even know what this boat is called. All ships have to have a name or it's bad luck, right?"

Relief seemed to wash over Nells as she laughed, "Goodness! I thought it was something serious!" The first mate moved closer to the bow and pointed at the side where the remains of faded paint could still be seen. The way the whole thing had been scratched out, the wood hacked and cracked in some places, suggested the use of something bladed with extreme vengeful prejudice.

"This vessel was lovingly christened by Captain Shar-Teel as  _Men Are Pathetic Pigs and They Deserve to be Sarded Sideways in the Arse with a Barbed Mast, A Rusted Anchor, and a Giant Shark on a Harpoon Then Their Flaccid Pricks Hacked Off with a Dull Axe Rubbed with Peppers and Fed to the Same Shark._ "

Nells had said that with a straight face.

Irse also leaned over and nodded. "I think I can make out the Anchor and the Shark."

"You can imagine the other sailors and harbor hands not as pleased to have that staring them in the face each time we dock. Whether Shar-Teel had been counting on them to be illiterate… no, I think she was hoping they weren't and surprisingly she was right."

Both of them giggled, their laughter interrupted by a powerful squall that unexpectedly surged across the waters and ripped through the deck.

As her hair whipped about her face, Nells looked frantically around as if seeing with her eyes the wind's true direction. "The main boom! Make sure it's secured!"

The warning came too late as they heard a snap followed by a heavy groan. To their horror, the boom - a massive spar used to secure the bottom of the main sail, had broken free and swept violently across the deck.

"Everybody get down!" Nells shouted and had tried to grab at the girl. As it came upon them, the first mate ducked but lost her grip on the elf and Irse sloped herself backwards, narrowly avoiding the beam as it swung inches above her nose. However, she tilted too far and slipped completely over the railing.

The world turned upside down as she plummeted headfirst overboard. Right before hitting the water, her ankle was caught in a viselike grip. As she dangled helplessly, Irse tried to right herself enough to catch a glimpse of her savior.

Dotie was smiling down at her but in a manner far from friendly.  _Don't let go_ , Irse wanted to plead but knew it might only goad the other to act otherwise. Vulnerable, she stared up at the dwarf, ready to close her eyes and prepare for the inevitable plunge when the first mate peered over and grabbed her other leg. Together, they hauled the girl up and into the deck. The wind had yet to stop and the boom continued to swing back and forth, the entire ship now rocking from the momentum.

"If we're dismast, we're done for!" Nells cried as she crouched protectively over the others.

A figure darted before them.  _Okami_. Helpless, Irse looked on in fear for her Teacher, unable to do anything else but watch his attempt to gain control over the main boom. Yet with uncanny speed he solidly dodged the great beam each time it came at him, sliding across the floor multiple times to gather the loose lines, charging to meet the boom, hoisting the ropes, ducking again, dashing to follow the spar each time it changed direction.

When enough lines had been coiled and the boom nearing to where it was to be secured, Okami pulled down at the ropes, using his bodyweight to steady himself. Irse broke free from Nells' hold and ran to her Teacher. She grabbed the lines behind him and held them down as well. They were joined by the captain who had managed to stagger out of the galley. Soon the entire crew were at the ropes while Shar-Teel secured the lines. By that time the wind had died down and the ship had already stabilized. When the captain was done, everyone let go and collapsed on the floor, exhausted but relieved.

"An accidental gibe. Winds gone contrary and the stern caught in their eye. Good thing, Mister Okami was here to help," Nells exhaled along with the breath she had been holding.

Shar-Teel squatted next to the blacksmith and clapped him approvingly on the back, though with force enough to rattle bones and make one prefer her disapproval instead. "Looks like you're not completely useless after all! Gotta' admit myself, never seen anyone move that fast."

Okami bowed his head modestly. "I did what was needed. Nothing more."

But the captain wasn't done. " _Sure_ , just as fast as men runnin' out the door to dodge their obligation like the cowards they are. 'That why you jumped on the first boat to nowhere? Knocked up some girl in Kara-Tur and now the whole clan's after chopping off your head,  _both_   _of 'em._ Heh."

The elf made a wry face. Did she always have to bring every conversation to  _that?_

Okami got to his feet, unflustered by Shar-Teel's taunts as always.

"I can assure you, Captain. The reasons for my journey are far from the abdication of duty to a dishonored maiden."

Irse narrowed a skeptical eye at him.  _Perhaps if her Teacher were to shave his face, comb his hair, didn't dress in such shabby clothes, and sounded less like an old geezer, then there would be no shortage of maidens throwing themselves at his feet for dishonoring._

"Are you hurt? You nearly fell overboard but I thank the gods that Dotie was there to catch you."

The elf looked up at her Teacher, now crouched in front of her.

"I'm fine. Thought I'd be making myself into a life-size sounding line back there," Irse joked, but the look of concern remained in his eyes. She grinned and mouthed -  _not a scratch,_  as she pulled back her sleeves to show her arms and wriggled her fingers around her head. Satisfied, Okami nodded and stood on his feet, walking over to join the captain and first mate in their discussion.

Irse herself got up and approached Dotie. The dwarf was about to go down into the cargo hold.

"Hey."

Sullen as always, Dotie glared at her.

"Thanks, anyway."

"Yer awfully heavy for a damned grass-chomper. Yer gonna eat us outta' ship an' home before the next port," the dwarf grunted and turned away.

Irse smirked, stretched her arms over her head and looked at the horizon.

 

* * *

 

 

Not even Nells disputed the captain's order to put to shore. After a near disastrous accident with the boom, it was agreed upon that they stop and inspect the sails, rigging, the mast, and everything else for possible damages just to be sure. Sunset would not be long in coming and they might as well rest for the night.

With all things secured and supper boiling in a pot over a campfire, the crew settled down to wait out the remaining hours of the day. Whilst the others stared bored at the fire, Irse fidgeted in her seat upon a fallen log and hoped none of them had this crazy notion that elves were talented singers and dancers. Fortunately, or more unfortunately, the captain had other ideas about their entertainment.

Shar-Teel rose from her seat, hefting a sheathed sword and pointing it at Okami. "I see you got yourself a toy knife at your hip. Is that for decoration or are you waiting for someone to shove it up your tight little heinie?" she heckled.

Everyone else stiffened at the challenge. Nells gave a look that screamed –  _not again_ , but coughed, "Captain, it seems you 've had a bit too much of the drink today. Perhaps you should retire for the -"

"I'm damned sober as a desert and bored as the nine hells frozen over!" the woman interrupted. "You, smith! As captain of this crew, I demand you amuse us by facing me in a duel!"

 _Is she serious about this?_  Irse stirred in her seat to voice a protest but Okami placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What are the stakes, Captain?"

Shar-Teel grinned at him, cocksure. "I win, you pay us triple the fare. Each of you."

"And if I prevail?"

"You and the girl sail for free."

Nells threw up her hands.  _There goes their sure gold._

"But you'll keep working 'til we get to Iriaebor. I'm not carrying deadweight. Especially, deadweight with a  _bottomless stomach_."

Irse leaned back and pretended to look elsewhere.

"I accept. Name your rules so long as the outcome is not fatal to the defeated."

"Don't you worry, sop. That fancy show you put up earlier convinced me to keep you intact for future use, well mostly. I say a good thrashing's allowed but the winner draws first blood."

"That is reasonable."

"Best out of three! You'll see I'm not so easily entertained."

Bewildered, the elf turned to Nells who only shook her head in resignation. It seemed the tension of the previous days between the captain and first mate had come to a head, and Shar-Teel would have been itching to let out steam. And blood for that matter.

A clearing right beside the campsite served for the makeshift arena. Okami bowed respectfully at his opponent who scoffed at the gesture. Shar-Teel drew her shortsword with her right hand and made to circle him but shifted and stepped sideways, apparently searching for an opening.

 _But he's entirely open_. Okami made no attempt to match her maneuvers, blade still sheathed and both hands at his sides, feet planted on the ground and slightly spread in a stance. Even his eyes looked straight ahead as if the other were keeping still. Casually his left hand moved to clutch at the scabbard, the only movement a slight jerk of the guard.

 _First blood_ , the captain had said. What if her idea of drawing first blood was a stab in the gut, a chopped-off hand, a slash across the face? Irse bit at her knuckle. The others watched as well, Nells with evident worry and Dotie with malicious interest.

A moment of stillness then Shar-Teel charged. A flash of steel and a cry of surprise. Okami had darted past the captain, ending up a good way behind her, his sword now raised in the air.

Irse blinked. She just knew she saw him unsheathe his blade, but not when he struck.  _How did he move so inhumanly fast?_

"Nine bleedin' hells!" Shar-Teel had dropped her weapon, blood pouring from a deep gash on the back of her sword hand.

"Looks like noodle stick be drawin' first blood," the dwarf cackled and slapped her thigh. The mirth seemed lost on Nells who frowned instead at Dotie.

"Captain, you might wish to have that taken care of before we resume."

"Why? Teeny drop making you weak in the knees so soon?"

"You are at a disadvantage; the injury might affect your grip."

"Shar-Teel, listen to him! We need to bandage that!" Nells fretted but the captain waved her off.

"I can use either hand! Doesn't matter to me which one gets you first!" the woman snarled as she picked the weapon with her left. She twirled the sword, proving the deftness and skill that she had with the other.

Okami sheathed his sword, bowing once more before his opponent. He had barely finished when Shar-Teel charged at him again, her swings now more furious, quick to draw back and return. Yet the man calmly evaded each strike, sidestepping the attacks with ease. At one point the blade narrowly missed his cheek by a hair's breadth. Irse was sure her heart had stopped at that.

Shar-Teel drove her weapon forward, Okami dodged but it was a feint. Instead, the captain swiped her bleeding fist at him. He blocked the punch with his left forearm but it was another feint.

Irse screamed a voiceless warning as the blade flew at her Teacher who was still unarmed. And just as swiftly as he had been earlier, Okami pulled the sword from his sash, but still in its scabbard, to block the strike. Without breaking momentum, he moved to the side, Shar-Teel and her blade sliding in their forward velocity. The head of the katana hilt bashed into the captain's face.

Again, the blacksmith dashed clear from his opponent's range. Shar-Teel stumbled and cupped her mouth. She removed her hand, now red and slippery with blood this time from her nose.

"The duel is decided. It has been an honor, Captain." The blacksmith said as he tucked his sword into his sash.

"Bastard! I'm not done with you yet!" Shar-Teel raged and charged once more, weapon gripped with both bloodied hands and raised overhead. She brought it down upon his head but Okami caught the blade flat between his palms. The captain struggled and tugged at her sword to dislodge the blade but the blacksmith held them steady. Irse's eyes widened.  _So that's how it's done_.

Nells sprang from her seat and grasped at her friend's forearm. "Captain, please. Stop this, now."

Shar-Teel slowly turned her eyes to the half-elf, teeth bared and breath heaving. Undaunted, Nells continued to cast a gentle look at the other woman as she slid her hand over to the captain's. After what seemed like an eternity, Shar-Teel loosened her grip, allowing the blacksmith to let go of the blade as well. Nells gently pulled her friend away while Irse rushed to her Teacher's side.

"Do not think yourself truly bested, Captain. Had this been a contest of strength and endurance, you would have been perfectly capable of overpowering me."

Shar-Teel wiped her bloody nose with her forearm. "Save your charity for someone else! You only got me with your funny eastern tricks. But you're right, had this been a wrestling match –"

"Dotie's eating up everything!" Irse interjected with supreme urgency and pointed accusingly at the dwarf. Everyone whirled to stare at Dotie bent over by the campfire and slurping the stew straight out of the pot. She merely sneered at them and licked the ladle all around before plunging it back into the stew.

"Disgusting dwarf! You think I'm  _not_  gonna eat that?" Shar-Teel growled and tramped over to her. Nells laughed in a mixture of embarrassment and relief but mouthed a quick "thank you" at the pair before going after the captain.

Master and student remained standing apart, watching the crew argue over supper.

"Are you all right? Did she get you anywhere?" A tentative finger poked at her Teacher's arm.

He spread out his hands, inspecting them. "I am unscathed. Thank you for your concern."

"How did you? And  _that_  fast?" she buzzed.

Okami closed his eyes and smiled. "Supper first. Lessons later."

Left to herself and watching as he walked away, Irse scratched the back of her neck and wondered how she could have forgotten about the most important thing in the world.

 


	9. River of Stars (Book One : From the Earth)

A thousand apologies for a rather talkie chapter. A small quiet moment after the squall. Should pick up in the next.  Pinkie promise! ^_^ 

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 9 : River of Stars**

* * *

 

 

Practice swords clacked softly in the night air in consideration of the rest of the crew, now asleep. Master and student faced each other on the deck, the anchored boat bobbing on occasion with the river’s gentle currents.

"That was awfully quick back there. I thought for sure you two would have to duke it out until the morning; the way she was hankering for it. Couldn't you at least made her think she had a chance?"

“To what end? It may be necessary to deceive a stronger opponent if it would mean your survival though not in this instance. Ill-tempered she may be, but the woman is no fool. To do so with the aim of toying needlessly with your foe is to disrespect them."

“Hmmm, so no matter if you’re fighting someone better or worse than you, you still give it your best?”

“Be constant. Slacken not your hold on the sword,  _not for anyone._ ”

A strike, a block. A shift in stance.

“Just as well, if you hadn’t ended it so soon, who knows we might have gone to bed hungry, no thanks to Dotie. But you should see the Watchers at home when they spar. Swords smashing on and on…  and on against each other, nobody really hitting anybody, forever circling each other like a pair of puffed up peacocks. I'd yell -  _When are you guys gonna stop staring into each other’s eyes and start kissing!_  They’d give me the evil eye but I'd point at someone else. Gods, no wonder they call it  _dancing._ "

Okami raised a brow at her. "Dancing?"

"Dancing. When they want to sound tough, they'll size you up, waggle their sword and say - " the elf replied, lowering her pitch in an imitation of a manly voice. " _Let's dance_."

"I suppose an interesting reference to sword fighting commonly used by Faerunians. But can  _you_  dance? And by that I meant the art."

Irse shook her head. "Nah! To hear Ulraunt's favorite pet, Brother Nador, say it –“ she said, frowning at the memory of the monk, the greatest of them all at kissing the Master of Tomes’ posterior. 

“He said I was born with two left hooves."

"And I was born a bamboo trunk that cannot even sway with the wind."

 _Ah, another thing he’s not._  “If we both can’t dance, it can’t be a  _dance;_  then what is it to you?”

Okami paused and arched the bokken over his head, his eyes tracing the air. “Not a dance. But a  _flow_.”

“A flow?”

“A flow. A cycle. A path. As all things may flow to their due course. The breeze to a full gale, a current to the tidal wave, a spark to the blazing flame. Even the earth, its blood a river of fire gushing beneath our feet until it surges from the crater and cools to become part of the hardened ground.”

“And the sword - from its sheathe to the enemy!” Irse exclaimed with sudden insight, then blinked, surprised at her own words.

Her Teacher leveled a gaze at her, quiet and thoughtful. “Yes, you understand.”

The elf nodded in return and raised her training sword once more. They resumed their practice drills, each swing and parry a measured movement, repeated and redone to help her retain. After what seemed like hours, Okami called for a stop so that he may proceed with the rest of his watch.

“Aren’t we  _forgetting_   _something_?” Irse ventured, bokken sawing idly on her shoulder.

The blacksmith rubbed his chin, eyes evading her. A casual shrug and he replied, “I am quite certain we have gone over all of the drills for tonight.”

Impatient, she stomped a foot on the deck planks but the girl shushed herself right away at the louder-than-expected clump, looking around to see if any of the crewmates had been disturbed from their rest. No angry head popped out of any door and the elf exhaled in relief.

“I want to learn how you did that. How you pulled the sword so fast to hit.”

“Ah.  _That_.” Okami smiled, almost teasing. “For your own welfare, it is not yet time for you to learn to hold a true sword.”

“Aw! Please, Teacher!” she begged, eyes mooning, but the blacksmith merely held up a hand and made to walk away.

Standard badgering isn't going to work. Maybe a different tactic. She sighed then called after him as her eyes fell in pretend defeat, one foot slack and shuffling back and forth.

“You’re right. You don’t have to teach me now. After all, it  _is dangerous_  for me to mess around with sharp and pointy things on my own when I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ll forget about it. Never bring it up again. Nope. No, Sir. Will certainly not even think about it. Yep.  _Trrrust me!_ ”

Okami halted in his steps, pausing for a good moment before turning to her, eyes narrowed. “Perhaps a reconsideration is in order. I shall demonstrate to you how it is done. But only for tonight and after this you will wait until I deem you capable. Agreed?”

 _Well, well! Had only been counting on him letting his guard down, but a victory is a victory._ She clenched a triumphant fist behind her but refrained from showing too much joy. 

“Agreed! But what made you change your mind?” The elf smirked. “And so suddenly?”

“Likewise for your own good, I realized it is more prudent to satisfy your curiosity in the meantime. Do you think it is hidden from me that you feign disinterest now, only  _for you to steal the sword in my sleep so that you may attempt the technique on your own when I am unaware?_ ” Okami answered back.

“Ohhh!” Irse pursed her lip, guilty eyes drooping to the side. “Why would you think I’d do something like that?”

“I remember not too long ago a cautionary tale about a capering fox cub and an unfortunate smith who was very nearly deprived of the chance to sire future descendants. “

“All right! All right! I’d probably…,” she admitted, wagging an indignant finger. “ _Just probably_  would do something like that. And  _if_  I did, I would’ve practiced some place far from any window where people won’t get hurt. And besides, I’ll bring it back without a scratch.”

“Of the sword I have no doubt of its durability. But what of your fingers?”

 _Yikes_.  _Of course._  Irse gulped at the realization.

Okami approached her as he fished something out of a pouch in his sash. “Give me your left hand,” he said.

She reached out her hand, and the blacksmith proceeded to wrap it with a thin strip of leather, layered a few times, enough to let her somewhat flex both wrist and fingers.

“What for?”

Okami replied, “A precaution.” He held out his own, the lantern light on deck revealing a small yet deep scar on the back of the palm between thumb and index finger. She gaped at it and hoped that didn’t hurt too much.

“First we learn _iaijutsu_  and _noto_  – respectively the art of drawing and sheathing the sword.” With the katana at his left hip, cutting side up, he showed her how to push at the guard with the left thumb, adding a stern reminder not to put the thumb right on the edge of the blade lest she cut herself, then holding the scabbard with the left hand and drawing the sword fully from the sheathe with the right, ending at the beginning stance. 

Unsheathing seemed simple enough, but returning the blade was another thing. Holding the mouth of the scabbard, he rested the dull edge right at the guard between the webbing of his left thumb and forefinger, and slid down the entire length until the point aligned with the opening.

Lifting the sword parallel to the ground, he twisted his left hip backward, giving him greater reach to allow him to guide the tip of the sword into the mouth. Rather than sliding in the sword directly, he lined both point and mouth and moved the sheathe over the blade deliberately, bringing the scabbard up to the metal fitting between the guard. A quick jerk of the thumb and the sword was locked into the scabbard.

Several repeated demonstrations after which the katana was turned over to her, Okami himself tucked it into her belt and secured with a silk cord through a knob on the scabbard.

 _It’s her turn now_. Right hand quivering over the hilt, she jerked the guard out.

“Slowly, there is no need for haste. Acquire a feel for where the blade makes its path from sheathe to stance,” he instructed.

The elf drew the blade, unhurried, observing how the cutting edge traced an arch facing the sky before abruptly righting itself upon being fully drawn. 

At times with the first attempts to re-sheathe, the tip missed the mouth and poked at the webbing between her fingers, the prick felt but the skin protected by the leather wrapped around her hand. Silently the elf thanked her Teacher for having thought of everything beforehand.

Not too long, with each repeated motion, the confidence gained served to steady her hand. When he appeared satisfied at the demonstrations, her Teacher had her untie the string in the knob and took back his sword.

“Now that you know how to properly unsheathe and sheathe the blade, we will proceed with  _battojutsu_  – the rapid draw of the sword to enable you to perform both the unsheathing and the cut in a single movement as I did in the duel."

“Warriors must be ready to fight at any time, to be first to strike even when your foe is the one to launch an attack. In my homeland, it is a shame to be caught unawares and cut down without having unsheathed your weapon. You cannot beg for your life; thus, you should not beg for time to draw your sword,” he explained.

Once more, Okami demonstrated the technique several times, with slow deliberate motions at first to let her see. Posture stable, with the sword at the hip, he took hold of the scabbard but this time he also pulled back the sheathe with the left hand while simultaneously stepping with the forefoot and drawing the blade to end at a frontal strike.

“Due to the curvature of the sheathe, the blade meets no resistance as it is drawn while the backward pull of the scabbard is harnessed to propel the blade with greater quickness, as well as sufficient momentum and force to deflect an incoming strike, or to cut at the enemy,” her Teacher described. He repeated a few more times unhurried, following with executions at the proper speed.

It was her turn once again. Clutching at the scabbard, Irse inhaled deeply. 

 _Stillness_.

A click, a grinding slide of iron against wood. In a flicker of an eye, steel glinted in the lamplight.

“I didn’t do that!” she blurted, wide-eyed.

Okami beamed, amused at her disbelief. “Perhaps another attempt might convince you otherwise.”

And she did, countless times more, not always perfect, but enough to assure herself. 

“I promised I won’t try this again until you let me,” she said. “But I’ll forget how, by then.”

“There is another means to continue your learning for when you cannot train as frequently as you wish. It is to practice in your mind what the body must do.”

“Only in the mind? That’s just daydreaming and imagining.”

“More than that. Not a wandering of the mind, but a focus of thought with intent. Is it not true that the mind controls the body? For how else could the greatest among us exceed their limits if they had not set the intention in their thoughts long before the body stirs. Now, close your eyes.”

Irse followed, breathing in deeply, expectantly.

“See yourself in your mind's eye, standing as you are now, sword at your hip. Recall each detail, the feel of the floor beneath your feet, the weight of the katana at your side.”

“All right…?”

“Without moving a muscle, execute the motions in your mind. But not watching yourself from a distance, rather _as if_ you are performing them yourself. Imagine the pressure of your fingers on the sheathe, your palm around the hilt, the effort in your body. Envision completing the act perfectly, a thousand times.”

Unconvinced yet trusting, she furrowed her brows and imagined herself sheathing, unsheathing, drawing to strike. Fuzzy at first, the picture in her mind, the imagined act too fast, too smooth, unreal. But she remembered what he said - _feel as if_. 

Left fingers twitched as if touched by the smooth lacquered surface of the scabbard, right wrist tensing as if at the ready on the hilt. Drawing the blade and returning it, only in thought but truly feeling steel slightly sliding against the inner wall of the wooden sheathe. 

Again and again in silence, she in concentration and he in patience.

" _Uh-oh_.”

“What is it?” he asked, voice puzzled yet tinged with alarm.

“I was doing fine. But now the imagined sword just flew right out of my imagined hand and is now sticking up in the imagined butt of an imagined Master Ulraunt. “

“ _By Inari, this little fox,_ ” Okami sighed.

The elf opened her eyes and snickered. “I’ll make us some tea,” she offered, untying the string of the scabbard and handing back the sword, resting upon both palms which the blacksmith received in same manner.

Opening the door to the galley, Irse cast one more glance at her Teacher tying the silk cord in his sheathe under the lamplight, and then she went inside.

 

* * *

 

“I thank you for the tea.”

“I could make more if you like.”

Sitting on a bench and leaning against a crate on the deck, her Teacher casually waved a hand. Across him, Irse sat upon the floor, practice sword laid at her side.

Though dawn wasn’t far off, the buzz from the practice session kept drowsiness at bay. And besides, hanging around at their quarters at this time no longer seemed like the best idea. Only the thinnest of planks which didn’t even closed up to the ceiling separated their section from that of the dwarf’s. Sleep only came in the first night as a result of exhaustion from lying awake, unable to drown out Dotie’s thunderous snores rumbling over the gap between ceiling and wall - if it could be called as such.

No wonder the crabby dwarf had her own place - it was not a privilege, but a mercy for the rest of the crew.

Irse poured for herself before lowering the kettle on the wooden floor. With a start she realized she had forgotten to bring a potholder. Ah well, a ring of soot wouldn’t be so out of place on any surface of _this_ boat.

She sipped her drink and scrunched her nose. Forgot the milk and sugar again. She glanced at her Teacher drinking from his own cup – _how does he manage to take it all straight?_

 _Just one of the many mysteries of life._ The elf shrugged and looked down at her mug. As the moon’s reflection wavered on the surface of the dark liquid, Dotie’s warning echoed in her mind.

She really didn’t care if the captain and her crew traded in illegal goods or skipped on their dues to the harbormasters. And she wasn’t even too worried of Dotie's threat anymore - as long as she kept her head down and her Teacher knew nothing of it then it should be smooth sailing all the way to Iriaebor. 

Shar-Teel may be a hard-nut, even dealing with some shady types but she didn’t seem the kind to be mixing with the _extra wrong_ crowd; the caring and friendly Nells even less so. Yet for some reason, the incident at the cargo hold filled her with a sense of disquiet she couldn’t shake off.

“What is the matter?” Okami inquired at her silence. He must have noticed the withdrawn expression on her face as she stared down in her tea.

“Nothing, Teacher." A shrug. "Just thinking… about things.”

“Ah.”

She hunched forward, fighting to dismiss the thoughts from her mind. _Forget the dwarf. Think about something else. Someone else._

Flanked by the woods on either side of the river, the elf strained her eyes if perhaps possible to use her sight to pierce through the darkness, imagining seeing just beyond the trees over there - Candlekeep and the flicker of its lighted windows. Perhaps a glimpse of her foster father at his desk, a pile of parchments and books before him and maybe, she dared to hope, the note she had left for him. What could he have thought then, what would he be thinking if he could see now just how far she was from everything and everyone she had ever known? Here in some rundown ship sailing to what could already be another world, trusting a stranger with her life when she could have trusted her father with her future.

 _Even worse._ What would he say when she comes back? When the road was still beneath her feet to turn back on, it was easy to daydream of that knock on the gates and at Gorion's door. So easy to think of it just the other day, but suddenly now...

“It is well to ruminate on what has been and we think ourselves wise to presume on what will be,” the blacksmith said, a seeming acknowledgement of her worries even though she kept them to herself.

“But only in being here in the present are we truly alive,” he added.

Irse scowled. “Well, that’s rather obvious isn’t it?”

“And yet it is something most of us fail to perceive. Dwelling on the past that cannot be changed, fretting on the future that is yet and may not even come. Too late, one realizes that today has slipped from their grasp, the chance to experience the _infinite_ , gone.”

“The infinite? I don't understand. How can you experience the infinite in the present when this moment is happening only right now?”

“For it is not in the past that has gone, nor in the future yet to come can you do anything. But only in the now can you _act and be_ what an _infinite_ number of possibilities are yet to be chosen by you."

A sip of his tea, then he continued, "And more so because you can make the present last for as long as you hold on to it."

 _Hold on to the present?_ The elf furrowed her brows in deep thought. Perhaps her Teacher was right – nothing can be done with what has happened and who knew what tomorrow may bring. _Enjoy the moment while it lasts_ – this wasn’t the first time she had heard of the saying.

Irse leaned back, finally allowing her gaze to wander among the stars in the firmament above them, holding their own light as Selune appeared no more than a pale sliver in the night sky.

As the mind cleared and eyes fixed only upon the stars, somehow her spirit began to ease - worries borne away by the cool night breeze.

Clouds, like gray mountains drifted across the moon, lingering to cloak the dimly lit crescent in totality. In that moment, the sky became a sudden veil of diamonds and fireflies, innumerable pinpricks of cold starlight; some as if mere lamps in the horizon, others deeply far, beckoning to the immeasurable expanse of the void.

Irse felt her own breath stand still as the immense starlit sky filled her sight. An unknowable ache pricked her heart. In one moment, she saw herself small and insignificant against the heavens above them, at the same time feeling as vast, as limitless as the horizon. 

 _“Lanterns in the sky,_  
_By day shadowed in the sun,_  
_Yet each night, eternal.”_

Okami had suddenly recited the verses, his voice soft and low as if lost in a dream.

Irse turned to look at him. His eyes darted to her, then turned back to the stars.

“Please forgive the excess syllable when the final verse only requires five. I am a blacksmith, and no poet.”

“It’s all right,” the elf chuckled. _What else could he not be, after all?_

They sat in comfortable silence, content to gaze at the night sky as the world glided along the gentle currents of the present.

 


	10. Meander (Book One : From the Earth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand apologies for a necessary edit on Chapter 1 : Crossroads. The line “A blacksmith, an amiable yet quiet man, seemingly not even past his thirties, she recalled.” was added to the scene where Irse and Okami met for the first time, meant to clarify Okami’s age (twenty-eight, actually, not “ambiguously ancient” hehe). Just realized I was vague about it. Mea culpa, am more used to writing fanfiction where readers are already familiar with established characters’ appearances hence allowing me to dispense with the physical descriptions. Thus, I had failed to adequately describe him. Folks might be picturing him as a balding, white-haired old man with wispy whiskers and sounding like he’d look at you and call you “Grasshopper”. XD
> 
> Dearest Readers, though your paths may meander sometimes, may the ways remain pleasant and give you joys unexpected. :)

 

* * *

 

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 10 : Meander**

* * *

 

 

Draw. Strike. Sheathe. Rinse. Repeat. Just a few more. A few thousand times more in her mind.

But with the last, not the sound of iron and wood.  _A rumbling stomach_.

Not steel flashing in the air, but a heaping plate of bacon, sausages, eggs, and bread rolls.  _What?_

Irse scrambled out of the hammock, tangled briefly with the sheet before landing on the floor. Eyes still gritty with sleep, she rubbed her cheeks in an effort to waken herself fully. Faint light peeked under the doorway.  _Is it breakfast time yet?_

It was still Mirtul but the rare gray skies and a drizzle greeted her outside. A brief internal debate whether to don a hooded cloak or not; decided then to wear one anyway to save the trouble of being lectured on by her Teacher about no one under heaven is immune to the cold and going back to their room to get hers. Biscuits and a swig of tea, and then the usual tasks.

It was all starting out again like any other day in the river.

* * *

As Nells pointed out, up ahead the Chionthar split into two distributaries - the western stream leading to the caravan city of Scornubel then through the Reaching Woods and an eventual northerly run to the Sunset Mountains. Instead they were taking the second stream which branched south down to Berdusk and Iriaebor.

At the first mate's instruction, Irse let down the sounding line. Two fathoms deep the mark had read, the fork deep enough to maneuver safely through despite the current season.

Puzzling. It didn't seem as if the river would ever run dry in the summer; why would Nells be so worried about the water level here?

As she coiled the line, her eyes caught an unmistakable glimmer of light along the left bank less than a mile away from them but still a few miles more before the river branched out. It flashed at evenly spaced intervals and the girl tapped the arm of the half-elf beside her.

Nells peered at the distance and sighed then turned to the captain, waving a hand. In response, Shar-Teel cussed and steered the boat to its port side. As she did, Irse went over to the helm, not so much to ask but simply to observe.

The captain suddenly grabbed the girl by the shoulder and roughly pulled the hood over her.

"Keep your head down and your mouth shut, you hear me?" Shar-Teel hissed with urgency.

Surprised yet in no mood to argue, the young elf nodded and gathered her cloak around her. Okami had climbed out of the cargo hold, perhaps becoming aware of the abrupt change in direction, and they exchanged curious glances. In silent obedience, the ship inched closer to the beacon and soon they touched by the bank.

A lone woman stood upon the shore, cloaked and hooded; lantern in her hand in spite of the daylight.

"Gangplank," Nells called out to the crew. Dotie and Okami worked together to let down both the anchor and ramp.

The woman climbed aboard, removed her cowl and cast aside the front of her cloak. Petite and of a shapely build, dark hair framing a beautiful face though a few lines had begun to appear, tanned skin indicating her origins from a country far south of the Coast.

Must be a – what was it, a  _Calishite or a Calimite?_ Irse remembered the Avowed using the first term formally, and the Watchers using the second one with a smirk, to refer to the occasional visitors who hailed from Calimshan to see the great Library in the north. Either way, they obviously meant the same people.

"You're late. I was beginning to think you had forgotten your part of the agreement," the woman complained, voice playful yet unmistakably cutting.

Nells apologized, "Sorry, Safana. We did leave the Gate ahead of schedule. But the winds were… neither contrary nor too favorable, and there had been a small accident. I hope you won't think we had any intention of backing out of this."

But the first mate's explanations were ignored as if the half-elf didn't even exist. Safana gave no acknowledgement and instead sauntered over to Shar-Teel.

"Ah, Captain! So pleased to see you again. I trust that your vessel is outfitted to provide the utmost comfort that I require," she said as her slender manicured fingers drummed on the helm.

"Would that I'd rather chain you to the prow all the way, you black-hearted bitch. How's that for  _comfort_ ," Shar-Teel sassed but Safana simply laughed it off.

" _Darling_ , one of the many things you can say to me, but can  _never_   _do_ ," she teased.

"Such a dreary piece of driftwood, I'd much prefer a gilded galleon. But as they say, business shouldn't be mixed with pleasure," the woman exhaled with a melodramatic sigh, looking around with a haughty air as if owning both ship and crew. Her eyes brightened as they alighted on Okami.

Safana sidled up to the blacksmith and ran a hand up his arm. "My! Perhaps I spoke too soon. New crew? A comely man at last, an exotic too..."

Irse's ear twitched at the flattery. Despite the captain's orders to keep cowled and bowed, she raised her head slightly to cast a secret disapproving glare at the newcomer. But the movement caught the woman's attention.

"And what's this? A young man?" she queried excitedly as she drew up to Irse and without invitation, pulled at the cowl, revealing the pointed ears.

"An elven lad!" Safana was practically giddy with anticipation. "Shar-Teel, I didn't expect you'd make good use of  _my gold_  to hire better company!"

Irse scrunched her shoulders and awkwardly held up a finger. "Actually… I'm a girl."

The woman's enthusiasm was replaced with disappointment.

"But it's all right. At least this time I look young and exactly like my age.  _Not an old woman pretending otherwise_ , right?"

Safana's disappointment changed into undisguised contempt. Wondering if she had said something insulting,  _for one never knew with other cultures_ , Irse glanced at the first mate and captain.

Nells was staring like someone had poked a sleeping dragon with a flaming battering ram in front of them while Shar-Teel was grinning as if said flaming battering ram had been shoved up the dragon's scaly behind.

With an affronted huff, Safana returned to the gangplank and whistled a shrill call towards the woods. On cue, the shrubbery parted and two men emerged, garbed in leather and armed. They were followed by a group of women with another pair of men who brought up the rear. Irse counted about fifteen girls in all. The eldest appeared little older than her, but there were a handful younger than Imoen.

As the women were herded into the ship, Okami motioned for Irse to stand behind him, his expression wary as he eyed Safana's escorts. These men were nothing like the sleazy types one imagined hanging around in taverns, but were every bit the hardened sellswords, grim and wasting no words as they led the girls down the cargo hold.

Th group most likely made the trek from Scornubel, the nearest settlement though still of considerable distance on foot. Visible distress and fear marked the older girls while the younger ones only seemed confused and sleepy.  _Who were they? Shipwrecked merchants? Field laborers? Orphans? Why all women and under guard?_

The young elf looked up at her Teacher, but his grave eyes confirmed her worst guess.

Irse bit her lip as she felt her stomach churn.

But this time it was not with hunger.

* * *

Scrub. Scour. Rinse. Repeat. Defeat.

She had long accepted that no amount of rubbing and soaping would ever get this pot and the others to shine like the ones back at home, but as the great sages would have said it –  _we were all put on this world to try_.

With more mouths to feed on board, the urgency of keeping the dishes clean, nay, spotless, had become pressing. And by mouths being fed in a civilized manner with dishes and cutlery, they meant Safana and her guards. Not the poor girls who had to be content with the near-stale bread in sacks, stored in the crates.

A shadow darkened the doorway to the galley.

"Such dedication to your work. Are the fair folk always so diligent and exacting even in the most menial of labors?"

The elf stiffened.  _Safana_.

"I'm quite used to doing this, really."

A hand reached up and brushed aside a lock of hair from Irse's ear. The girl winced at the unexpected contact.

"So jumpy, like a newborn fawn. Never been  _touched_ , obviously." Safana leaned closer and whispered, "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to bite."

The young elf laughed nervously then resumed at scouring the pot.

Remembering the awkward encounter earlier, the girl had a flash of inspiration. Might not be bad to try and let Safana know that she was knowledgeable about their nation. Well, at least, knowing the name of their country, their great port and the fact they have,  _er_ , a huge desert somewhere there?

"So, ah, Lady Safana…"

She was answered with melodious laughter. "Darling girl, I may have been born in wealth and privilege, but I wouldn't call myself a noble lady in that sense. I am a self-made woman, my successes attained by my own hands, and wise in the ways of the world despite being…  _quite_   _young_  in years. Only twenty-seven, you see."

Irse pursed her lips, fighting the urge to snigger.  _Twenty-seven, sure._

"Yes, I can see that too, Miss Safana. Say, you're a  _Calimite…_ from Calimshan, right?"

The air suddenly went still.

" _What_ … did you just  _call_   _me_?" the woman snapped at her.

Irse stopped at her scrubbing. "Eh, a Calimite? Isn't that what you are? I mean, the color of your skin and hair, even your features and the shape of your face…"

But Safana didn't let the girl finish her explanation, and instead glowered at her before storming out of the galley in an angry huff.

The elf blinked several times and shrugged her shoulders.

' _Guess the right word is "Calishite", after all_.

* * *

"You called her a  _what?"_ Shar-Teel blurted, fighting to maintain the perpetual frown. Even Dotie, flabbergasted, had shed her usual scowl. The three of them were at the galley, captain and crewmate coming in for a drink of water as Irse was putting away the dishes.

"A  _Calimite_? You know, someone from Calimshan. I was just trying to be friendly but then she got mad," Irse replied, utterly puzzled.

The woman and the dwarf looked at each other and suddenly doubled over in laughter.

"I don't get it. Calishite… Calimite... They sound the same and Calimite sounds closer to Calimshan!" Irse argued.

"Kid, you slept on books and wiped your squeaky-clean arse on parchments in your big Library house, but you really know nothing about real people outside," Shar-Teel snerked.

The elf crossed her arms and frowned. It was Dotie who finally enlightened her.

"In their land, their prized warhorses be named  _Calimites_. That's why Calishites think it an insult when ye use it on 'em," the dwarf said.

"In other words, ye just called our generously vain employer a soddin'  _Horse-Face_ , genius!"

Irse's jaw dropped at the realization. But the captain clapped her on the back, unaffected by the offense at their sponsor.

"Were we in a tavern now, I'd buy you a drink. Damn, a whole keg too, just for  _that_ ," Shar-Teel guffawed. After taking their fill of water, the two left Irse alone.

The elf scratched the back of her ear. Maybe she ought to apologize. It was fine with her to deliberately call someone names behind their back, like she did with some of the nosey monks at the Keep; but to unwittingly insult someone to their face when they were just trying to make conversation was another matter.

"Look, I'm going to do the right thing, all right?" the elf whispered at the ceiling in a preemptive declaration against an expected recall of her foster father's stern reminders about respecting people and other cultures.

She nodded to herself in approval and went outside to look for Safana.

* * *

She knew that the Calishite had taken residence in the Captain's quarters with Shar-Teel while Nells had moved out to bunk with Dotie. As Irse walked to the row of cabin doors, she wondered what they would be having for supper tonight, wondering too if she remembered seeing any of the men carrying what might be construed as additional provisions – meaning, something likely tastier than the crew's usual sad stew given their boss's penchant for finer things. Of course, that is, if Safana was still willing to share after what happened.

_Oh boy, she really must get in the woman's good graces now._

Irse knocked twice, waited for an answer and went in. Only one hammock and a bed roll on the floor; shouldn't there be two? Is Safana making Shar-Teel sleep on the floor now? It took her a while to realize this was actually Dotie's room. The elf wrinkled her nose at her inattentiveness. She was about to head for the door when there was a slam and the tramping of boots from the other room – the captain's quarters on the other side. She looked up and saw that the partition likewise didn't reach up to the ceiling.

"I wish to make it clear we're not stopping at Berdusk. Not even for supplies. Too risky with the Harpers nesting there."  _Safana_.

A gruff male voice replied, "Done."

"Check on the girls, see if they're all still breathing. One of them tried to kill herself last time, the poor fool. One less merchandise again and it'll cost me a piece of my cut. And I happen to need to make payments for a custom sapphire and platinum ring I'm having made at the jewelers."

The elf covered her mouth in shock at hearing the casual manner with which Safana had spoken.

"And on your way, call for the Kara-Turan. I want to ask him some…  _questions in private_. Do not disturb us."

Irse pouted.  _What_   _does that woman want with her Teacher now? Sword lessons too?_

As soon as she heard the other door closed, the elf ran her hands across the wall.  _There!_  Tiptoeing a bit, she aligned an eye with the found hole.

Alone, Safana pulled out a worn palm-sized journal from her belt pouch. Scanning the pages, her mouth moving wordlessly, occasionally counting with her fingers, nodding with satisfaction.

_A list of the girls and their buyers? Their price in gold scribbled next to their names?_

Footsteps approached and there was a knock on the door. The woman hurriedly stuffed the journal into her pouch, tousled her hair about her shoulders, forcibly yanked the upper laces of her corset and the top buttons of her blouse.  _Maybe to give him a better view._

Irse pulled her face away from the wall, snorted quietly and rolled her eyes, then peered in again.

"Come in," Safana purred.

Okami stepped in and the guard outside closed the door for him. As instructed, Safana's escort complied with her desire for privacy as the sound of his footsteps became more muffled and distant.

"My presence was requested," Okami said.

"No need to be formal with me. Since we'll be traveling together for a while, I thought it productive to get to learn more about the latest addition to  _my_  crew."

"If you must know, I am a blacksmith journeying with my apprentice," her Teacher replied matter-of-factly.

"An elven girl instead of some peasant boy? An unusual choice but I'm intrigued. What would you be teaching her? Perhaps, you could… share the  _lessons_  with me as well? You'll find I'm a  _very_ eager student."

The elf cringed. Too bad they weren't in a smithy with a hammer within reach.

Safana edged up to the blacksmith; both hands rising, one to touch his neck and the other to lay flat at his chest. She pulled herself closer, smiling up at him as her hand moved from his chest down to the hilt of the katana at his side.

"Hmmm, I've never  _handled a blade_ like  _this_  before," she cooed as she commenced with caressing the hilt in deliberate, languid strokes. Still quiet and his face impassive, Okami's eyes remained fixed on her.

"Why don't you show me how hard and sharp it can be," Safana teased. With a low moan, she seized the hilt and tried to pull at it.

 _Hey!_ Irse inwardly screamed.  _That's not how!_

_First, you jerk off the guard with your thumb, then you pull!_

As expected, the blade didn't budge, and the Calishite made a second attempt with more force but failed once more. Okami remained unmoving, merely looking at her.

"Well, then. I guess  _your sword_  needs… a little more  _coaxing_ ," Safana conceded, losing her composure somewhat.

"But must we play around? These sailing hags do not see the man in their midst, but  _I do_. Come, there is none to disturb us, I am  _yours_  for the taking this moment, tonight and every night thereafter," the woman urged, her hand still resting on his neck while the other now moved from the sword and slid over the top of his trousers.

Suddenly, Okami firmly gripped both of her wrists. Safana gasped, surprised. The blacksmith removed her hands from him and let go. Shocked, she stepped back and glared angrily at the man who dared to refuse her advances.

"If there is nothing else, I shall return to my duties." A curt nod of his head and he shifted one foot to turn away.

"That  _elf_ ," Safana spat. "Do you know how much they'll pay for her kind? Especially one this  _young_  and..." She smiled with malice. "... Unspoiled?"

Okami paused. He leveled his eyes at Safana, left hand coming up to rest on the scabbard.

"Let this be the  _only_  and final warning you shall receive from me," he began, voice calm and low yet taking on a hard edge, grip tightening on the scabbard.

"Touch one hair on  _her_  head and this boat will sail, not on water,  _but in blood._ "

And with that, the blacksmith left the room.

Safana slammed a fist against the wall, grabbed at her hair and shrieked. Heaving, the woman finally calmed down and sat on one of the hammocks, muttering angrily in her native tongue as she laced up her corset.

Irse backed away from the wall, hand clasped over her mouth.

Likewise, the elf took a few deep breaths before quietly opening the door. Seeing nobody else around, she crept outside and with hurried steps, made her way to the deck.

* * *

She found him instead at the stern, alone and staring at the horizon.

"Teacher," she called to him.

Okami turned to look at her, smiling. The elf noted that his eyes expressed otherwise.

"Are you done with your tasks for today?"

Irse nodded. The blacksmith resumed gazing ahead of him.

"I must apologize…"

She held her breath.

"We may have to forgo our nightly lessons in the meantime. There is no space for them now, and I must exercise further diligence during the watch."

"I can join you. I don't need much sleep anyway."

"Good. I shall welcome that. Bring a blanket to make yourself comfortable when you do."

"Sure."

"And, Irse…?"

Her head perked up, expectant.

"May I… ask you to stay close to me? Until the end of this journey?"

The elf bit her lip. As much as she wanted to reassure him that she would be fine, would always be careful, for him not to worry too much…

"I will," she said, her response free of any question.

"And hey, I won't let  _you_  out of my sight.  _I promise!_ " she added brightly with the right palm raised, then blushed. "Except of course, when you're… uh, doing  _personal stuff_ , Teacher," she followed with a scratch at the back of her neck and an embarrassed cough.

Okami chuckled and said nothing more. Irse beamed, relieved to see him relax even just a bit.

They stood there for a while longer, observing the currents trailing behind the boat.

* * *

They both made their way to the deck. As the pair inspected the ropes securing the sails, Irse saw Safana step up at the helm. The Calishite exchanged a few hushed words with the captain before casting a glance at their direction.

She met the woman's gaze and the elf flinched at what she saw in Safana's eyes.

_Pure hatred._

Irse knew then that she had made an enemy.

 


	11. Headwaters (Book One : From the Earth)

Dearest Readers, may your own headwaters flow clear, unimpeded, and always true to your spirit.

 

* * *

“For all beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish.”   
\- The Harper Code

* * *

**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 11: Headwaters**  

* * *

 

Starting the evening of that same day the girls had come aboard, Irse was tasked to distribute food to them. Okami accompanied her to the cargo hold, reasoning that some tools might have been misplaced among the crates.

Not much heed was paid to them by the two guards, secure that the young elf and the lean Kozakuran wouldn’t do anything stupid. That, or her Teacher’s warning had been passed to them. Either way, Irse tried to put it out of her mind and concentrate on the job at hand.

Loaves of near-stale bread were dispensed, broken in halves, sometimes in quarters for the little ones, to make them last for the rest of the voyage. Not a single thanks was uttered when given their rations; instead, she was met with a myriad of misery reflected in their eyes – sunken, dejected, terrified, defeated. If their lips moved at all, it was only in murmured prayer, muffled sobs, or to shush the homesick cries of the younger ones.

When she had reached the edge of the room and kneeled to hand out a piece of bread, one of the older girls grabbed at her wrist.

“You’re an elf,” she whispered.

Irse could only nod, fearing the guards might see.

Fingers tightened against her skin. On the girl’s wrist were newly-inflicted cuts, healing poorly.

“My brother, he used to tell stories – that your people are good with sword and magic. Maybe that’s why. So you could protect yourselves from monsters and  _them._ ” The girl let go and leaned against the wall, hands falling limp at her lap.

“I wish he was still here. I wish I still have him…  _anyone_ … to protect me too.”

At a loss for words, she gently pressed the bread down on the girl’s open palm and walked away.

 

* * *

 

“Irse…”

He called after her, clearly noticing the sudden haste with which she had dumped the empty sack in a crate and had rushed up the stairs to the deck and then to the stern.

Heart pounding and outrage welling up, the elf grasped at the railings. If only it were easy to numb oneself or if one’s conscience could be hurled, from stomach to throat, over the edge to be carried away with the currents behind them.

Her Teacher stepped in beside her.

Irse turned to him and whispered fiercely, “This is wrong, isn’t it? Maybe they won’t get caught but we got to do something! We can’t let this happen.”

Okami canted his head towards their quarters and walked away without another word. She followed until they were both inside and he shut the door behind him.

“You wish to do something about this?”

“My father would’ve.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “And how would stopping them achieve anything?”

“What do you mean? “

“You cut off an arm, but like the worms of the deep, it sprouts another and another. You take down Safana and her men, but someone perhaps even more cruel, will rise and fill the void. Evil cannot be eradicated in this world, Irse. It will always be there. Not a matter of balance, simply that it is in the nature of mortals and immortals. Even so, while slavery is forbidden in the cities of the Coast, it is practiced and even governed by law in the nation states in the south and the east. Now what can one such as you do about it? Why must you even concern yourself?”

She stared at him, stunned, unbelieving. _How could he say such things? Did he really believe that?_

But the girl took a deep breath, eyed him, not as a sudden stranger to her, but as a new puzzle.

“I guess you’re right,” she accepted. “Grownups around me always complain of how there’s just so many of these horrible people no matter what those in position try to do about them. I’ve heard from talk at the caravan of what really happens to slaves – I couldn’t believe it myself. Those girls. Maybe no one cares about them that’s why they ended up here.”

_In a flash, a recollection of seeing her foster father conversing with a visiting nobleman from the southern states whose pompous name she never found out and never cared for._

_A meddlesome band of vigilantes disguising themselves as self-righteous do-gooders, interfering with kingdoms and sowing discord, that man had said of the Harpers._

_Through the nobleman’s rants, Gorion had stood, unspeaking. Not once did he counter the other’s words. But when the man had said that there was no purpose in their_ _work in drawing the ire of powerful and less-than benevolent forces merely for the sake of some wretched slaves and undeserving people when commerce and wealth are better off flourishing under the guise of peace, Gorion stepped forward._

_One foot forward, and the noble had backed down, suddenly small and spooked before a man, aged yet towering above him in both height and principle._

_“My Lord, you are correct. It is undeniable that a disruption of the status quo has its own inconvenience.”_

_“But greater than the mandate of kings and the wealth of the realms are freedom and dignity as is the right of all beings – all and none are exempt from that privilege.”_

_And then Gorion had fixed him with a gaze, hard as flint, unyielding as rock._

_“Except when you deny it from others, whether by word or deed. And that is how you earn the enmity of the Harpers.”_

_“For all beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish.”_

Irse breathed in deeply, slowly.

“But they… they have family and lives. Much like me. If I was in their place, I’d want someone to help me. My father would’ve wanted someone to help me. Maybe you’re right – in this world we’ll never be rid of bad folks. But who cares if there will always be more of them than us, or what the lords or the law says is allowed or not. You do what’s right because…”

She straightened herself, remembering once more the words of Gorion, and looked him the eye. “Whether big or small in our world – we have the right to live, be safe and free. And it should be the same for them and for all.”

Okami smiled and uncrossed his arms, satisfied at her response.

“Good. I see your resolve runs deeper than obedience to the dictates of law; that you will be swayed neither by the odds nor fear from doing what is right. The gods have assured me of an ally in this endeavor.”

Irse exhaled in relief and rubbed her hands in excitement. “So you got a plan, Teacher?”

“A modest scheme that I have not yet perfected. But now with your aid, it might be.”

 

* * *

 

 “Not that I want to pry, but why are you letting it down?” Nells quizzed her.

The elf froze, sounding line dangling inches above the water.

As with the pranks she used to pull at the Keep, it was easy to fib when the crime was already done. Not so easy though when the crime was still in progress and botching it could put their necks in fatally boiling water.

“Ahhh…”

“I have sailed this way before, and if memory serves, there are unseen shoals before we come upon Berdusk. Shallows that may already be in our midst even now. I prefer to put my mind at rest,” Okami replied, rising from his seat.

“You’re right about that. But here at the side instead of at the bow before we pass over what’s ahead of us?”

“I prefer to keep her out of Safana’s sight. The child is not in good graces with her at the moment on account of a slight misunderstanding.”

Her back turned to them and lowering the lead to dip below the water, Irse scowled.

“ _Child” her pointy-eared bum!  She’s already almost nearing a bump close to sixteen. And “good graces” her knickers! That’s because Safana couldn’t take an honest mistake and a “no” for an answer. If only the meteorites and her bokken weren’t too precious to stuff down that evil harpy’s hungry…_

“Oh, yes. _That_ little mix-up,” Nells agreed and followed with her usual nervous laugh.

_Now, while she isn’t looking!_

“The lead! It’s caught on something!” the girl exclaimed in alarm and yanked at the line a few times.

Then let go. More like, tossed it.

She heard panicked footsteps from behind, and Nells leaned over the railings. For a moment, she expected the woman to jump after it.

“That was our only sounding line! We’ve had it for years, and I’m always careful not to lose it,” the first mate lamented.

Irse curled her fingers close to her chest, true guilt felt at the loss. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to. We’ll get a new one at the next port, won’t we? Maybe, Teacher could… pay for it?”

The half-elf dismissed the offer with a wave of the hand. “It’s all right. Except…” Nells frowned. “Mister Okami’s correct about the shallows. The river starts becoming treacherous the nearer we approach Berdusk, and even close to its port are rapids that could destroy barges if in the hands of unskilled pilots. For now without something to test for depth, we run the risk of running aground if we veer from course even slightly. But, Shar-Teel knows what she’s doing, we’ve been through this river many times before.”

_Thwap!_

Irse yelped and grabbed at the top of her head where Okami had smacked her with a rolled-up map, _with convincing force._ Even Nells was startled.

“And now I must pay for damages from your neglect when each coin must be expended with care. Let this be a lesson to you. Exercise the greatest caution when handling another’s possessions. _Be mindful of other people’s property_ ,” he scolded.

Irse resisted the urge to remind him that they were _already sailing for free_.

“Yes, Teacher,” the elf said, rubbing at the sore spot. _Bet he used both hands for that_.

The first mate looked uncomfortable. “Oh, dear! Shouldn’t have made such a fuss! It’s just a silly little thing, you know. Completely forgot we’re getting paid for this trip. Please don’t think about it. Tomorrow we should sail past Berdusk then a couple days more ‘til Iriaebor where I’ll get a new one.”

As Nells walked away, master and student traded knowing glances.

“Did you _really_ have to?” Irse griped.

Okami shrugged his shoulders, lips quirked.

“Please forgive the excessive force. I am a blacksmith, not a thespian.”

 

* * *

  

Behind a paneled section of the hold, Dotie opened the hatch to the bilge and eyed them with her usual distrust.

“Tell me again why yer goin’ down this stinkin’ hole?”

“You may be the boatswain on this ship, but my duties are specific to repairs. I would inspect the bilge myself for leaks and weaknesses and arrest the problem before it grows,” Okami explained.

“And I be the one doin’ all the checks here below. Yer sayin’ I’ve done it wrong the whole time?”

“It is wisdom to send two scouts. What the first pair of eyes may miss, the second may find. Not for lack of diligence, but for the difference in what each of them seeks.”

“Whatever! It’s yer trouble this time, not mine. Gimme the keys again when yer done.” Dotie tossed the ring over to Okami and left, a little too eagerly. 

“Let me do it. I’m smaller and I see better with little light,” Irse volunteered.

“And what manner of man would I be to allow you to perform a perilous task in my stead?”

“Oh,” she stammered. “But you - ”

“Especially with _your_ _skill_ _or lack thereof_ with the hammer, you are likely to puncture a hole larger-than-planned and send us all to the bottom sooner than we anticipated. You would sink the entire ship to drown the rats.”

All thoughts of worry for him had fizzled at hearing his jibe. _Maybe he’d like it if she locked the hatch and let him steep down there for a good while like a moldy teabag!_

Lantern in hand, a small hammer and chisel hanging at his belt, the blacksmith lowered himself into the hatch which merely came up a little past his waist – a less than comforting indication of the limited crawl space in the bilge.

“Close it after me.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“It should not take long and none must hear of my work.”

She pushed down at the trapdoor and sat on the floor to wait. Fiddling the keys between her fingers, she thought back on their little plan.

 _Scuttling the ship_. In other words, deliberately punch holes in the hull of the bilge; Not to sink the vessel but to take on water, enough to slow them down and force a stop at Berdusk.

 _But the crew and the safety of the girls_. They were also why Okami wouldn’t risk outright confrontation, aside from the two of them already outnumbered in a confined space. While it seemed that Nells was being forced into this, her loyalty might still be with her captain. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case if things do go south.

Clutching at the keys, she closed her eyes and recalled what they would have to do upon docking at Berdusk. Okami will stay at the ship and stall them, probably pretend to fix things. In turn she would sneak out and alert the city guards; maybe run into some Harpers there. How would she know if someone’s a Harper, though?

Would they have “ _I’m A Harper_ ” or “ _I Harp_ ” tattooed on their foreheads?

It didn’t take much to figure out that Okami was sending his apprentice to seek help, mainly to put her out of harm’s way. Her brows furrowed with determination. She would have to be quick about it then – get back before they suspect anything and turn on him instead.

Jump ship quietly. Get help. Arrive with the cavalry. Have Safana and her men arrested. Free the slaves. _Job well done, easy-peasy._

Did her foster father ever go on missions against slavers? If ever he did in his youth, it should have been a walk in the garden for him – he’s got magic and other Harpers at his side. Maybe all he had to do was blast his way through doors and his warrior friends would do the slicing and stabbing for him.

But what could a blacksmith and a runaway do? Not much, she guessed, but hopefully just enough.

After what felt like hours, there was a knock from other side of the hatch and she scrambled to lift it up. Okami emerged from the trapdoor, face smudged and clothes drenched, reeking of foul water. Irse wrinkled her nose as she took the lantern and tools from him.

“Though I prefer the springs and baths of my homeland, for now a bucket of clean water would be heaven-sent,” he said with distaste, wringing the hem of his short robe.

The elf smirked as she wiped the tools with a rag.

It would take more than a bucket of water to clean all of that.

 

* * *

 

From behind the screen came the sounds of splashing, vigorous scrubbing, and a whiff of soap.

Out in the open air and at a corner of the stern, they had set up a small wooden tub, a barrel of water, and a dressing panel – all requested through Nells and borrowed from Shar-Teel, everything carefully timed at when Safana had retreated to the captain’s quarters for an unmissable beauty nap. Since putting to shore was out of the question, Okami would have to make do with the makeshift bathhouse on board.

Her Teacher insisted on being left alone, that the screen _and a guard_ were unnecessary but his apprentice had insisted otherwise.

And so Irse sat at a stool, a dressing panel between them as he bathed. What would he say if he spied the wooden sword concealed under her cloak – which she also insisted donning despite the afternoon heat?

 _Well, there’s no telling what could be sneaking around and looking for trouble_. _Nobody said that witches only come out at night. Best to be ready._

“Don’t you think it’s weird the captain would have something like _this_ in the ship?” She tapped at the screen. It wobbled briefly and the elf panicked, expecting the whole thing to come crashing down on her Teacher. Fortunately, there were no great waves in the river and both ship and panel remained stable, much to her relief.

“Do not be so hasty in your judgment. Captains of trading vessels might also find the need to make themselves presentable,” Okami answered back.

“Yeah, but… _Shar-Teel?_ ”

The screen was of thin yet sturdy cherry wood, corners gilded with gold leaf though mostly cracked, the lacquered surface painted with idyllic scenes of forests and gardens, perhaps bright and colorful once but now dull and faded. Something quite _not_ _Shar-Teel._ _Perhaps something from home or reminded her of it_.

Ears pricked at the approaching tramping of leather boots on wood. One of the guards emerged from the port side, threw a casual glance at her, then went over to the railings, stepped on a low box, and proceeded to undo his trousers.

Irse cleared her throat and stared icily at him. The man glared back.

“ _Do you mind?_ ” he snapped at her.

“Well, excuse me! You got a choice of port or starboard, even at the bow if you want the captain to see. Go do your business in any of them, just not _here_!”

Mumbling to himself, the guard re-clasped his belt buckle and stepped down from the box.

“And whoever of your friends are peeing in the bilge… tell them that’s not what it’s for!”

“Friggin’ knife-ears!” he groused while walking away.

“Idiots,” she muttered back.

Soon the sloshing stopped and she heard Okami step out of the tub. Irse gathered his clean clothes, a towel, and bandages, all folded.  
  
Looking at the roll of white cotton cloth, the elf wondered why her Teacher wrapped them around his abdomen most of the time. Certainly he wasn’t nursing a festering wound. Or maybe he had an ugly scar. Either way, it seemed rude to ask if it was something he wasn’t showing out in the open.  
  
Irse handed them over by the side of the screen, eyes averted just in case. He thanked her and took them from her hands. After a while, he stepped out from behind the panel, fully dressed but hair still dripping wet; oblivious to the dark strands which clung to his face and neck.  
  
The elf snickered at the rare sight.  
  
“The towel was already soaked to its capacity.”

“Maybe shake yourself all over? Works for a dog,” she suggested with a smirk.

Okami ran his hands through his damp locks. “And for a _wolf_?”

Irse paused. “I dunno. Never even seen one up close myself.”

“Hmm,” he mused for a while, then without warning, he shook and swung his head wildly, hands wagging his hair, seemingly taking great care to send most of the droplets at her direction.

“Hey! Watch it!” she cried and swatted at the spray with her hands. As she wiped her face and arms, her Teacher proceeded to fold the screen.

“If you are done idling,” he chided her. The elf snorted and grabbed a mop and bucket, swabbing at the floor as the blacksmith emptied the tub over the side.

Wordlessly they nodded at each other.

It was done. Now they wait for river and water to do their part.


	12. Sand In Water (Book One : From the Earth)

 

Dearest Readers, may your plans in all of your adventures come to sweet fruition. :)

 

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**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR’S GATE**

**Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 12: Sand in Water**

 

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First to greet her in the waking world were hornworts, floating scrubby river greens, clinging to her face, suffocating her. Suspended between the surface and the riverbed, limbs weightless, frantic hands scrambled for anything to anchor her.

Realization screamed –  _the plan, it worked too well!_  Overnight as they slept, the water must have surged from the forcibly ruptured hull and into the hold, pulling them to the bottom much faster than they expected.

In the murky darkness, her mind sought to where Okami and the crew might be in the midst of this, if they were hurt, awake, had at least swum away from the wreckage...  _The girls!_ They were housed in the hold; had they been let loose to save themselves? If only she could right herself, pull free and break through the surface…

And then she hit the cold hard wooden planks of the cabin floor.

 _Dry_. The floor was dry! Well, sort of.

One foot still raised and tangled at the hammock, Irse laughed in sweet relief. She would have gladly kissed the somewhat clammy wood but she knew just how disgusting that would be and resigned to patting the floor with familiar affection.

Chalk it up to feeling a bit too nervous about the plan. Well, she shouldn’t be. Everything will be all right.

 _Nerves of steel, nerves of steel_ , she chanted to herself.

And then her stomach of iron reminded her of breakfast.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Boo_!”

Irse twitched in surprise, nearly dropping the rag in her hand.

“Sleepin’ with yer eyes open again,” Dotie heckled, turning her back on the elf to pick up the slack lines on the deck.

The girl stuck her tongue out in response and went back to polishing the railings at the bow. Not daydreaming, only antsy about the plan. Again she tried to reassure herself that no one would ever suspect Okami of puncturing the hull – it was his profession to _fix and make things_ , not break them. Sort of like a blacksmith’s code. The elf stared into space and wondered for a moment if blacksmiths _do_ have oaths and codes, like paladins and priests.

“Irse.”

“Yes, Teacher?” she turned around and walked over to him.

Okami handed her a small bundle, wrapped in a clean kerchief. Curious, the girl took it from his hands and unwrapped the parcel.

 _Biscuits!_ Irse smiled with pleased surprise and immediately stuffed an entire one in her mouth, cheeks puffed with effort to chew the whole piece inside. She mumbled her thanks, readying the next one as soon as she could swallow the first.

“You seemed hungry,” Okami reasoned as he observed her. The elf beamed like a delighted child, crumbs on the chin and lips.

“Hmmm. This reminds me of an old trick our commander would often use before battle to calm the nerves of new recruits. A simple act unrelated to the situation at hand, such as chewing, serves to distract the mind from worries. Though of course, it was unbecoming to be eating while in formation, but he preferred wholeness of mind and spirit over the fragile mask of decorum,” he recounted nonchalantly, turning his attention to the rigging.

Irse slowed her munching, nodding and understanding what he really meant to do. Help her deal with the jitters lest the others suspect them of anything. A good thing too, because she was _indeed_ still hungry.

“Do not consume all of it at once. Lay aside a portion for later,” he reminded her, a wry expression on his face.

 _Right_. The girl grinned sheepishly but devoured one more piece, enfolded the rest and stuffed them in her pocket. Well, he was right about eating while in the middle of something, though. Seeing him calm about the whole thing was reassuring as well.

After all, they were doing the right thing. The gods should bless that and at the very least, _not help_ the bad folks in this.

What’s the worse that could happen? Stub her toe while sneaking out? Be given away by a rumbling stomach? _Again_.

Well, she has the biscuits for that now. Irse patted at her pocket with renewed sureness.

The rest of the morning sailed on without event.

 

* * *

 

“Of all people,  _you_  should be most concerned why Berdusk isn’t behind us yet,” Safana complained, standing next to the captain at the helm, impatience wrinkling her otherwise near-smooth brow.

“We're a mite heavier now the ship's taken on more weight -  _in people_ , if you took time off from preening like a bedecked turkey to notice at all,” Shar-Teel retorted.

The captain leaned over the wheel as if to yell a command at the crew working in front of her. “And maybe if someone hadn’t lost the sounding line back there, we’d be cruising without knotting our knickers that we’d run ourselves aground in the shallows ‘round here!”

At the bow and hearing the captain’s words, Irse guiltily scrunched her shoulders and wiped the banister with more contrived diligence.

“You should know the river by heart, with or without whatever it was you lost. Negligence and delays aren’t good for my business and  _yours_ ,” Safana said bitingly.

The elf refrained from glancing at her Teacher who was busy with the rigging. Not far from her, Dotie was coiling a line.  _Act casual, don’t wipe too fast or too slow, pretend it’s all normal_.

Shar-Teel merely snorted, one hand on the wheel. “Maybe the winds don’t give a whippin’ sard about your business. Why don’t you jump off and push the boat yourself if you’re in such a hurry! Go do something useful other than dandling on every pus-crusted prick that wags itself in your face.”

Normally the Calishite would brush off the insult, even relish the Captain’s ire while reminding Shar-Teel that  _talking back_ was the only thing she could do to her employer; but this time Safana seemed in no mood to trade barbs.

As both women stewed in livid silence, one of the guards rushed up from the cargo hold and reported to them in a low voice. Irse caught a few words – _water coming through the planks._  The look of surprise and disbelief on their faces were proof enough.

“How the nine hells did that happen?” Shar-Teel demanded.

The first mate had arrived from the galley and had heard part of their talk. “I’ll look into it myself, Captain,” she offered. Shar-Teel grunted in assent, seeing she was needed more to pilot the ship. Nells called for Okami to come along and strode ahead towards the stairs, tailed by Safana and her guard.

The girl watched them disappear down into the cargo hold, worried eyes on her Teacher as he quietly followed them without a backward glance.

“Looks like yer Master missed a spot.”

Irse heard the dwarf sneer at her, but the elf was too uneasy to talk back.

Minutes waved by until half an hour had passed and they were still down there. The captain muttered and cussed with growing impatience; even Dotie appeared restless and unable to concentrate on the ropes as she undid and re-did what she had already done.

The girl kept glancing at the door to the cargo hold. _What could be happening down there?_ _Have they been found out?_ Pretty sure that given his work, her Teacher could throw them off with whatever excuse he could come up with. Even with that short but sour non-history between him and Safana, they ought to assume he wouldn’t meddle at all to keep them both, especially the elf, out of that woman’s cross-hairs.

But still, anything could always go wrong. The thought of her Teacher down there by himself, surrounded by Safana and her guards was disconcerting. _What if someone ratted on them and they took him down there because they already knew?_

Unable to contain her worry, Irse was about to volunteer to fetch news for them when Okami alone returned to the deck. Seeing him unharmed eased her mind somewhat.

“What happened?” she asked as coolly as she could muster.

“I explained to them how yesterday’s inspection revealed no breach. But with the bilge having been flushed infrequently, all the collected water may have disguised the minor leaks which can do naught but worsen given the hull’s questionable integrity,” he replied, his voice a bit louder but more for Shar-Teel’s and Dotie’s hearing.

 _Well then, they should buy it, and the plan is still on course._  Irse fought the urge to grin with respite.

They were about to resume their work when Safana and Nells emerged from the cargo hold. Irse turned to look and was startled at what she saw behind them.

 _The four guards and all of the slaves._ Perhaps they wanted to keep their _precious cargo_ dry _. How thoughtful._

The first mate took her place at the captain’s side while Safana walked to the center of the deck.

“It appears we have a minor setback. It’s quite obvious to everyone that our ship is taking on water,” the Calishite announced.

“So are we gonna dock in Harper Hole,  _boss?_ ” Shar-Teel mocked.

“No,” Safana said. “We will stop for repairs but not in Berdusk. Though I will know first who sabotaged my ship.”

She raised a hand and the guards drew their daggers; each one seized a girl and forced them on their knees. Safana nodded at her men and the blades were thrust at their throats. The hostages and some of the slaves cried in fear while a number of the older girls hugged the younger ones who began to sob.

From the corner of her vision, Irse saw her Teacher’s fist clench. She shuffled closer and grasped at his elbow from behind, a gesture to hold him back. As he glanced at her questioningly, she subtly mouthed the word "bluff" at him.

 _That woman’s far too greedy to lose one of her precious merchandise._ Irse would know of course.  _She had heard it straight from the horse’s own mouth._

“No one? Are honesty and honor truly dead in these times?” Safana goaded. She raised a finger and the guards removed the blades.

“But I’m not a complete monster,” she purred sweetly. “Why would I take their lives when I could simply take their sight?”

The men then roughly locked their hostages’ heads in their arms, and pointed the tips of their daggers at the girl’s temples.

Irse bit at her knuckle.  _All right, it’s not a bluff then._

Finger still raised, Safana raised an expectant eyebrow. Slowly she let down her hand while the guards edged the blades closer to the hostages’ eyes. Not a few of the slaves screamed in terror and begged for mercy.

Her grip on his elbow tightened. _What are they going to do now?_

They had talked about it – a backup plan in case they were found out before reaching Berdusk.

And that was to _fight their way out._ No, _he_ would fight his way out, but she was to hide in their room, bar the door and wait it out. The elf insisted she was ready and that all of those drills, both real and only in mind, shouldn’t have to go to waste. But he counter-insisted and even made her promise she would do as instructed in the worst scenario. Irse wanted to argue some more though nevertheless agreed, but only to reassure him. _And because it was nearly supper at the time._

One of the guards let out a nasty chuckle and pricked his captive’s temple with the point of his dagger, drawing a trickle of blood. The unfortunate girl wailed, sure of her fate.

The elf felt her Teacher shift forward slightly. _Is he going to confess?_  Irse breathed in. _Here goes…_

“Wait! I know who did it. I will tell. 

All eyes turned to the helm in surprise.

“Nells?” Shar-Teel croaked.

Safana smiled and motioned for the guards to hold back.

The first mate exhaled, “It was Mister Okami and he was helped by Irse.”

Amazingly, Dotie stared at them, mouth open in disbelief.

“I realized it wasn't an accident, nor was Irse that clumsy to lose the sounding line.”

Had it been happier times, the elf would have thanked her and wished everyone back at the Keep had heard the rare praise.

“But Dotie mentioned that Mister Okami asked to check the hull yesterday. This morning I noticed the mark was submerged far below the water line. That can’t be, no matter the depth. I was about to look into the bilge myself when the guard reported a flood starting in the cargo hold. Mister Okami's reasons earlier might have been convincing, but I know this ship and how much it can take, better than anyone. And then we couldn’t speed ourselves along whether by sail or oars for without the sounding line, we wouldn’t be sure of the river lest we run ourselves blind through the rocks we know beneath the surface and shallows in these parts. It was no coincidence; they’re trying to slow us down and get us to stop at Berdusk where the Harpers are.”

“But they didn’t know! They wouldn’t have known!” The half-elf looked pleadingly at Safana, then at the blacksmith and his apprentice.

“ _Nells_!” the captain shouted angrily in warning.

“I know it’s wrong but we had no choice! We couldn't pay it all back and we were out of time; they’re taking the boat away! Safana came along and promised to help us, but she had Shar-Teel put under a geas before we knew we were supposed to transport slaves bound for Westgate!”

Safana clapped her hands in mocking fashion. “Well done,” she said, approached the first mate and slapped her in the face. The half-elf reeled backwards and Shar-Teel rushed to hold Nells at the shoulders and steady her, glaring in helpless rage at the Calishite.

“ _That’s_  for not telling me sooner.” Safana waved a hand and the guards tightened their hold on the hostages, daggers pointed once more at their faces.

“Throw your sword at my feet and get down on your knees, both of you, if you wish for no harm to come to them,” the Calishite commanded the pair.

Sensing their hesitation, the woman added, “You’re in no position to fight nor bargain, smith. I have the lives of not only the girls but their captain as well. With the geas, Shar-Teel can do no harm to me and nothing else, other than obey every word of my command.”

Irse gritted her teeth in frustration. The woman was right. No matter the deal, the crew had no choice but to go with their captain. She knew what a geas was and how serious such a curse could be.

_Not too long ago, one of the Avowed had fallen victim to one of their pranks, a harmless but humiliating one. Despite apologies from Irse and Imoen, in his wrath he had threatened to put them under a geas as punishment but Gorion got wind of his words. It was no secret that the said monk was visited by her foster father for a “small talk” and soon afterwards with hysterical tears and free-flowing snot, the monk apologized and begged the two girls to understand he was only jesting. When the young elf had asked her father about it, Gorion gently explained what it was, along with a grave admonition against depriving another of their freedom and will whether by law or magic._

Now it was all clear to her – Nells’ constant state of agitation and fear for her friend, Shar-Teel’s testy defiance against carrying out the work, and Safana acting as if she completely owned the crew.

“To sell living souls and compel the desperate against their will to aid you in your crimes – no tallowed lead can measure the depths of such wickedness,” Okami began as he stepped forward. “But a geas can be removed – either by a powerful priest which the Harpers would surely have among their numbers or allies.”

Okami gripped at the scabbard, sword hand rising slightly. “ _Or by the death of the imposer_. I offer you a choice between the two. Which shall be it then?”

The guards retained their hold on the girls but looked uncertainly at their leader yet the Calishite remained unfazed. “You’re wasting your breath. You think I won’t do what needs to be done?  _I’m taking no chances!_ ” she scoffed.

Safana raised a hand and was about to give command to blind the hostages when harsh laughter rang out and echoed across the deck. The odd outburst of hilarity gave everyone pause as they turned to see it was the captain, leaning on the wheel and sniggering, tears in her eyes.

“Funny you should say that,” Shar-Teel said with a smirk. “Never thought I’d say this myself but for once in my life…” The captain gripped the wheel.

 _“I’m_  taking  _my_  chances with a  _man!”_

Shar-Teel suddenly steered the wheel to drive the vessel to portside.

“What are you doing? You’ve gone mad! You’ll jeopardize everything!” Safana shrieked as she dived at Shar-Teel. The captain shoved her away and the Calishite fell to the floor. Safana crawled to the nearest mast, clung to it and barked at her guards to stop the captain.

Okami stepped forward and made to draw his sword and intervene, giving the men pause even as they still held on to their captives. The ship began to lurch dangerously; everyone now feeling their balance falter.

Shar-Teel had resumed turning the wheel but disobedience has its limits. The captain cried in agony as her body suddenly spasmed violently, fighting against the magical bond placed upon her.

Just as Shar-Teel’s hold faltered, another set of hands grasped at the handles. Nells threw an apologetic smile at her friend, then with all her might, spun the wheel to the left.

It was clear what they intended to do. Everyone scrambled to hold on to something, some at the railings and others dropping flat to the floor.

Okami grasped Irse and Dotie by the scruff of their necks and pushed them to the side, shouting at them to grab hold. He draped himself over the two to shield them, likewise gripping the railings as firmly as he could.

The boat crashed into a sand bank.

In one moment the whole world heaved forward with force to knock out breath and wit, the whiplash pulling everything back with equal violence.

Then all went still.


	13. Riverbank (Book One : From the Earth)

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Dearest Readers, may the shores be welcoming to you, and your landings always gentle.

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**THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE**

**Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 13: Riverbank**

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Wood creaked and groaned, accompanied by the gentle splashing of water. Then came the thumps of unsteady footing, murmurings, gasps for air.

Irse squirmed. Her Teacher must have sensed the movement for he leaned back and loosened his hold.

"Are any of you hurt?" he checked on them.

"There's a bump… over here," the elf answered, frowning as she rubbed at a hair whorl. "Ah, wait. It's always been there. Nador Butt-Kisser said that Father had always dropped me on my head as a baby. From the tower window."

She grinned. "That's why I have a noggin like an iron pot."

"Good. You are unscathed."

Irse turned to the woman beside her and poked the dwarf in a few places. "Hey Dotie! ... Dotie! You're all right?"

The half-duergar knuckled her own temple and muttered what sounded like a curse in the tongue of the Underdark. "Maybe if ye'd kept yer knobby elbows off my face, I wouldn't even know we'd already plowed through a soddin' mountain!" Dotie hissed as she swatted at the girl's hand.

"Yep, she's fine," Irse answered her own question with a smirk.

He acknowledged her with a nod. Okami let go of the railing but winced and rubbed his arm and shoulder.

"You're hurt!" she fretted and reached out to him.

He smiled, pained but reassuringly. "A mere strain, nothing that will hinder."

Run aground but otherwise mostly intact on the outside, the ship was now listing somewhat to its left. Sounds of rushing water could be heard coming from the cargo hold.

Thankfully, the women survived the crash - the older girls had the good sense to protect the little ones. Some leaned themselves against the sides, others were visibly stunned or confused, while a few crawled across the planks in an effort to stand.

Unfortunately, Safana and her escorts had been quicker to recover.

Okami gripped the hilt of his sword but paused as two of the guards already had their blades against their own hostages. The other men wasted no time as well. They went around hurriedly and prodded at some of the girls with the broad side of their weapons, kicked at the ones still on the floor, and grabbed the younger ones by the elbow to haul them up on their feet.

"Come with me, Captain. Your work isn't finished," Safana summoned at Shar-Teel. With an exasperated grunt, the captain rose from her place, and cast an apprehensive look at Nells still unmoving and lying on the floor.

"Burn this filthy piece of driftwood when you're done. We've not far to go. I have a contact in Berdusk just for failures like this!" Safana called after her men. Sullenly, the captain herself herded the rest of the girls away as the men retreated last while still holding on to their captives.

As soon as the slavers had alighted from the ship, the elf crept towards the side to peek over the railings. She saw Safana and the others heading for the thick of the forest in the general direction of Berdusk, likely to follow the shoreline while remaining hidden.

Left to themselves, the rest of the crew hastened over to the first mate at the helm. Nells lay curled on her side, awake but motionless. Dotie tried to lift her by the shoulders but the half-elf cried in pain.

"She may be suffering from internal injuries. Stay here, keep her awake while I look to see if they had left behind anything that could help her," Okami instructed them. First he searched the captain's quarters, but apparently found nothing of use for then he rushed down into the flooded cargo hold.

"I'm fine. No wounds but maybe bruised my ribs a bit and twisted my ankle. Just hit the floor a little too hard," Nells groaned as she propped herself on her elbows. She stretched out a hand and Dotie took it, allowing the half-elf to support herself as she gingerly leaned on one arm to rise in a sitting position and rest against the mast. They waited for the blacksmith in anxious silence, fidgeting, worry etched on their faces, clearly wondering what would happen and have to be done next.

Irse blinked and remembered something  _very important_.

The girl reached into her pocket, took out the biscuits and unwrapped them hurriedly but with care.

"Still whole!" Irse cheered at the miracle. She was about to devour a piece when she noticed the others staring. The biscuits were offered around but Nells refused with a weak smile and a shake of her head. Irse shrugged her shoulders and popped one into her mouth, chewing with contented half-lidded eyes. The rest were promptly crammed into her mouth.

"How can ye be eatin' at a time like this?" Dotie snapped incredulously.

The elf canted her head, tongue poking at the cheek and gums for leftover chewed up biscuit mush in her mouth. A quick swallow, pounding at her collarbone to help it go down without a drink.

"They could have been crushed in my pocket. Do you know how hard it is to get crumbs out of the seams? That's how you get ants in your pants," Irse reasoned defensively as the dwarf continued to scowl at her.

"Why would yer ma's and da's sisters be wantin' the scraps in yer trousers?

" _Ants_! Not  _Aunts_!"

"Why stop with aunts? With yer twiggy bones, ye can stuff a whole soddin' elf clan in one pant leg!"

The budding argument was interrupted by a duet of coughing – one pained in front of them, the other impatient behind them.

Okami had already returned with empty hands. "Anything of use, they may have taken with them. The ship will no longer sink but it is still unstable. It is best if we make for the riverbank." He turned to look at his apprentice, eyebrow raised. The elf grinned, quickly licking off a crumb from the corner of her mouth.

At Nell's insistence to be moving now, they pulled the first mate to her feet, propped between the dwarf and elf. Okami alighted first and helped to ease her down the boat.

They had not gone far from the ship when the group came upon three of the guards approaching, swords drawn and intending to carry out their employer's command. One of the men stepped back while the other two forwarded to meet them.

Irse left Nells with Dotie and jogged over to the blacksmith who had gone ahead of them. She drew her own bokken but he barred her wordlessly with his arm. She looked up at him, about to ask if the crash had rocked his head that he saw only one foe where there were three, but the cold look on his face gave her pause.

Suddenly Okami charged, blade flashing from the sheathe; the guards likewise. He parried the blow from the first one, the second man swinging in between them immediately from which the blacksmith evaded, found an opening and drove his sword into the man's gut between jerkin and belt. Blade pulled out just as swiftly, arching to block the other guard's incoming sword with force to push it aside, leaving the mercenary open to a slash across his face and another at his neck, blood spraying from a severed artery. It was over in seconds.

Blood dripping from the katana at his side, Okami marched with slow deliberate steps towards the last man standing. The mercenary glanced with terrified eyes at his mates slumped upon the red-stained grass, and held out one free hand as if it would ward his coming doom. He tossed his own weapon to the side and fell to his knees.

"Don't kill me! I'm just following orders!" he groveled, one trembling hand raised in surrender.

"Your hands and face on the ground," the blacksmith ordered.

"No, you!" the man yelled as his free hand pulled something from his back pocket. The mercenary uttered an arcane word and pointed it at them.  _A wand_.

Not waiting to see, Okami dashed towards Irse, putting himself between her and whatever it might discharge.

Rather than a fireball or a lightning bolt, golden light exploded around them. Vision cleared in a wink, only in time to see her Teacher's eyes roll to a close as he crumpled lifeless to the ground, sword falling from his open hand.

_No!_

Behind them, she heard Nells scream Dotie's name. The elf cried and scrambled to his side. Kneeling, she picked him up by his shoulders and frantically tapped his cheek begging him to wake up. No wounds, no marks, his face serene as if in slumber, yet unresponsive as she called to him.

"What did you do to them?" Irse demanded.

The man appeared more surprised, staring at the wand in his clutches. "Damnit! This thing doesn't work on  _knife-ears_?"

"They're only unconscious, Irse! A sleep spell!" Nells shouted, herself kneeling beside the fallen dwarf.

"Doesn't matter now. At least half my work's already done," he sneered as he tossed the thing away and rose to his feet, drawing another weapon from his belt - a long dagger, some good nine inches of steel.

The elf gently laid her Teacher down on the ground and grabbed her own bokken.

 _It was up to her now._ She walked towards the mercenary; wooden sword raised at  _chudan,_ mid-level guard. Seeing his opponent wielding a longer weapon than his, the man backed away. They circled each other.

First to strike, the slaver lunged and swiped with his dagger. It was cleanly deflected but she hopped back, instinct driving her away from his reach. The mercenary continued his attacks, ducking from her defensive counters but weaving his own nearer and nearer. He finally got close enough; startled, the elf tried to sidestep but all he had to do was swing his blade at her. A sudden sting as the dagger bit into her arm, Irse stumbled away and rounded immediately to face him. A quick glance and she frowned at the blood seeping into her torn sleeve. The wooden sword wavered for a moment.

Reading her hesitance, the man rushed at her once more, the swings and thrusts of his dagger now quicker, more confident. She held the bokken out, barely moving and using it instead as a shield and to feebly swat at the enemy. A feint from him, a blunder on her part. Irse staggered back, a second gash in the other arm.

The elf cast a worried glance at her Teacher, still unconscious. The guard saw and laughed.

"Those things work for a pretty while, girl. By the time he should wake, he won't!" And the man motioned as if slitting the throat of an imaginary victim, clearly proud of his penchant for finishing off an opponent who couldn't fight back.

Anger tightened her grip on the bokken. They charged at the same time, parrying each other's attacks. But frustration directed her swings even as the man confidently ducked each one. In desperation she drove the bokken forward at level to his face, an attempt to smash the cocky grin spreading on his mouth. To her surprise he grabbed the wooden sword with his free hand and yanked at it. Irse lost her balance, gasping as she felt blade slash her shoulder. Only luck and muscle memory pushed her to slide back before he could attempt another stab. The mercenary wiped the sweat from his lips and twirled his long dagger, seemingly unconcerned at having to take his time.

_He was toying with her!_

Breathing now heavy and blood patching on her shoulder.  _C'mon! What are you afraid of? Getting shanked in the face of course!_  Irse snorted at herself in irritation. She had already done everything she had learned, yet nothing's working against a man with a smaller weapon! Even when she blocked his strikes, he still got through. But was that what she was trying to do? Defend herself, hold out for as long as she could?

_If he gets to her before her Teacher comes to?_

_Then they will all die here. And she the first one to go._

_Is that what she was afraid of?_  Her mind snapped into realization as the question was met by another – one almost forgotten but now recalled from not too long ago.

_How will not being afraid to die be what keeps me alive?_

A hand briefly touched her left ear and she remembered her Teacher's answer. The elf breathed in deeply and lowered her weapon from defensive  _chudan_ to open  _waki_ , the bokken at her left and tip pointing behind. The mercenary narrowed his eyes as if guessing her following move - given the stance, her next strike apparently coming from her left. He shifted his foot forward, clearly confident at having read his inexperienced opponent's next step.

She launched herself at him, still in  _waki_ and unguarded. Dagger blade came at her but this time the elf made no move to block, only sidestepping and bokken still pointing behind. Again, the familiar sting of another dagger cut grazing the shoulder, but ignored as mind and foot now worked together to keep moving. The man leapt back, likely having expected the wooden sword to swipe at him but it never came.

Instead of staying put, Irse continued to charge at him, readying for an upswing. The mercenary met her again but at the last second upon closing the gap, he switched the blade from his right hand to his left to avoid her incoming upward strike, perhaps aiming for her right shoulder or neck as well.

Instantaneously however, Irse slid to her left, pivoting to face the man's left side. The bokken reversed trajectory to arch from behind then to a downswing to reach and smack at the man's right hand, causing him to falter. Then without pause, she brought the bokken up, connecting with his jaw.

A satisfying crack, and he spun with momentum before falling to the ground with a thud.

Shocked, the elf blinked a few times before it hit her.  _She got him!_

Grasped the wooden sword with both hands and raised it above her head in triumph, did a gangly little victory jig but halted at an alarming realization.

"Wait...is he... dead?" Irse stammered and stepped back.

Nells reassured her, "Not likely. Feel his wrist for a pulse."

The girl shuffled closer to the prone body. A trembling hand stretched out to take the man's wrist, but it shrank back in disgust. Irse remembered him as the guard who had tried to do his business at the stern.

"What if he doesn't wash his hands?"

The first mate sighed a little too loudly. "All right, just… look and see if he's still breathing."

Irse poked at him with her bokken. He didn't respond but his fingers twitched. The elf exhaled with relief. They would be able to take this one alive and bring him to the authorities at Berdusk.

Elated and the hurt of her wounds ignored, Irse raced back to the ship to fetch rope, finding and grabbing a coil of free lines on deck. She returned and proceeded to hogtie the man, recalling the ways with which her Teacher showed her how to firmly knot a cord.

When the mercenary was bound and secured, the elf gingerly checked his belt and pockets for anything useful. Hopefully, he would happen to have a bottle of those cure-all healing potions brewed for the healers back at the Keep and always bought in wholesale by visiting adventurers-slash-scholars. She often thought it amusing to watch those swashbuckling types buy bundles if not crates of the bottled stuff from the apothecary, breaking into hysterics whenever Brother Karan had to tell them that he'd already run out of stock. The way they went about it, one would think they'd die if they stubbed their toe against a table and had no potion to drink away the "ouchies _"_.

But seeing the anguish in Nells' face as she tried to ignore the pain and sit up – it was now understandable why they treated such magical aids as a matter of life and death. With a start, she realized she had forgotten about the patches of blood on her sleeve. The rush of battle yet to subside had definitely numbed her wounds. She cringed at the thought of when she would have to change shirt later and see the damage for herself.

Except for a pouch of coins that she tossed to the side, she found nothing of note on his person. The elf moved on to the ones that had been slain by her Teacher. For a moment, the girl hesitated, wondering if it wasn't disrespectful to be looting corpses, especially that of the recent dead, but reminded herself that had it been bandits, and by association – bad folk such as these slavers, they wouldn't even think twice of stripping hers of valuables even before the life had completely bled out of her veins.

A quick check on them yielded a single vial, the pasted strip of parchment label confirming that it was what she needed. Only one bottle and even smaller than the ones in Brother Karan's apothecary, but it was better than nothing. Irse scooted over to Nells and handed her the bottle.

"There's still enough left over," the girl offered as she uncorked the vial and put it in the first mate's hand.

Nells hesitated, gesturing to the elf's arms and shoulders. "What about you?"

"Just scratches," she brushed it off but the half-elf still looked at her with concern. "These are nothing. We also got cats back in Candlekeep."  _Cats the size of the rats at the Gate._

Nells took the bottle and cork from the girl but only drank a few sips, leaving the vial with more than two-thirds of its contents. She re-sealed the potion and waved a dismissive hand at the look of protest on the young elf's face.

"That should be enough to patch up the worst inside. Don't worry, I'll live. We should save the rest for now, just in case" the first mate decided.

Irse got up, walked over to Okami and knelt beside him. "That man said they won't wake until after a while. But we'll lose track of the others if we wait any longer."

"You're going after them by yourself? No, Irse! It's too dangerous! At least let me go with you. I'll slow us down but... you saw what that woman's capable of, and she still has one of her escorts with her."  _And Shar-Teel._

"You're not fully healed and someone has to watch over them," the elf reasoned as she gestured at their fallen companions. "How about I stay hidden? I'll only follow them, maybe get a sense of where they're going. I'll leave tracks in case Teacher comes to or I'll return as soon as I can."

The young elf laid the bokken at her side, hands balling into fists and resting on her knees. It sounded like a good plan, but Nells was right. If caught, she would be outnumbered - a trio of steel against a wooden stick.  _But what could one do to better the odds?_

If only there was some way to make her Teacher regain his consciousness now. But magic was magic, and even her infinitely patient foster father had acknowledged her utter lack of affinity for the arcane.

_Maybe if she smacked him hard enough._

The elf snickered with a bit of satisfaction at the thought, then grimaced.  _Or maybe not._

Irse sighed as she looked at her Teacher, his eyes still closed and his lips unmoving.

Suddenly she had an  _idea_.

Hastily, the girl untied the silk cord at his sash, removed the scabbard, and gathered the fallen katana near his hand. Reached into her pocket, finding the kerchief that Okami had used to wrap the biscuits, shook it free of crumbs, then used the cloth to wipe the blade before re-sheathing. She got to her feet to secure the sword at her own belt.

"I know I made a promise, but -," the elf whispered at him. "I swear, I'll bring it back without a scratch." She turned to face the woods, about to take a step.

"Please, be careful!" the first mate shouted after her.

Irse looked over her shoulders at Nells with a grin, and cast her a mock salute. One deep breath, left hand taking hold of the scabbard, now ready and determined.

And then like a deer unbound, the elf sprang forth on her feet, running swiftly as the wind into the forest.

 


End file.
